Dreamless
by Dark Hope Assassin
Summary: A violent, merciless world spits out the battered corpse of a dishonored prince in the embrace of an adolescent scientist. She gives him back the hope he had lost along with his world. Years later they meet again, but what she receives isn’t gratitude…
1. Survival of the Fittest

_**Chapter 01:**_

"**_Survival of the Fittest"_**

* * *

The rattle of an infinitely irritating cackle rang in his numb ears. Every hair on the back of his neck stood on end with alarm, what remained of his senses on alert. But he could do nothing to appease his unease. There was vaguely anything his bloodied half-dead corpse _could_ do other than stay limp in their repugnant embrace as they no doubt taunted him and laughed at their own crude humourless jokes.

His body had long since given up the fight but his soul and raging spirit would never—not until he took his dying breath. That, he realized, would probably not be long then…

His entire being throbbed with the agony of his torn, bleeding muscles. He couldn't open his eyes to see their repulsive faces because of the dried blood that made his lids too heavy for him to lift. His fatigue was catching up on him fast, and he barely had the power to even stay in the semi-conscious state he was in.

The next thing he knew, he was discarded listlessly from the hovering craft and the ground rushed up to embrace him painfully. It wasn't long before the powerful roar of the engines disappeared into the distance.

His extremities twitched slightly as he felt an odd wave of gratefulness wash over him. This was it, then… He was going to die there, stranded on an alien planet, unwanted and made a laughing stock by the destroyers of his home world.

They had seen no use of him—they had dismissed any possible potential that he might have had. They thought so little of him that it was not even worth delivering the final blow he so badly desired to pull him out of his misery. He felt that annoying salty moisture of an essence and color far from blood leak from his tightly clutched eye lids. He had been made a fool and denied the honor of dying in battle. His dying hour had been dreadfully desecrated.

The dusty infertile ground stratified in his aching throat with each labored breath. He made a pathetic attempt to push himself up as his arms and legs screamed desperately to stop struggling and heed the searing pain. Succumb to the shame and hatred also bubbling raw inside his veins.

He pushed on despite the wretched agony that tried again and again to pull him down to the cushiony deathbed. His onyx eyes cracked open only a tiny bit to see the countless cuts on his body waste crimson moisture. There was a large gash on the back of his head and blood was oozing ruthlessly from a deep wound in his gut, his liquid life obviously in a huge hurry to flee him.

He chuckled deliriously as he lost focus yet again and fell sideways on a severely injured shoulder, which gave a menacing crack upon impact. His fading consciousness was oblivious to the long trek his battered body had managed to take from the initial spot he been thrown.

_Princes didn't die thrown face down in the dirt_, his mind mocked when the last brims of life betrayed him. His mentality, always quick to chastise him for the endless mistakes, also seemed fit enough to make fun of him even in his last moments. It reminded him heartlessly of the gory carnage his world had been reduced to before it had been wiped off of the face of the universe.

It reminded him how he had been powerless to protect himself; how he had been denied the right to die alongside his subjects and family an honorable death; how he had been disallowed the right to fight for his freedom and pride as he should… Instead he was given a painful, lingering and humiliating death from blood loss on a world he had never before set foot on. He was to rot away as a faceless stranger on that wretched planet.

_Princes didn't die pathetic deaths_, his mind assured him.

But as his stark fingers lost their feeble hold on what consciousness he had left, he somehow found the words terrifyingly difficult to believe…

* * *

Slowly, cautiously, his wandering mind seemed to settle for whether or not it should bestow consciousness on him again.

The distant and oddly distorted sound of gentle tapping and a low, alluring hum of a weird kind of engine had awakened him from his eternal slumber. It seemed he was given no peace, even in his death.

He made a desperate attempt to will his eyes open but the traitorous pair resisted the signals of his brain ferociously. His brain had succumbed to the numbness as he could no longer feel any part of his body. All his senses were severed and all he could do was listen to the strange sound in half-awake awe as a cool chill settled over him.

Languidly, detecting no reason for any haste, his mind was lulled dotingly back to dreamless sleep by the tender embrace and gentle sound of an unknown engine…

* * *

Every single spot on his body throbbed when his eyes fluttered in yet another attempt to open. Convinced in his success this time, he found the action easier than he had expected it to be. He took a deep breath in what he noted was some sort of life-support mask. He scowled deeply as the contraption retreated from his face, as this was the first moment he was given to take account of his surroundings.

Now, realizing latently, he did not die from his injuries on the ground. His mind slowly wrapped around the concept while noting that the hum he had been hearing, chasing away the demons welling somewhere deep in his subconsciousness, was actually the sound of a machine he had been placed in. The cooling sensation was the result of an oddly green colored liquid, currently draining out of the chamber he was confined in.

A large, heavy lid rose sloppily, leaving him and his vision a few evanescent moments to adjust to the lighting and atmosphere he found himself in.

His garbled brain again attempted to connect the reasons for his survival and transition to his new surroundings when suddenly a body blocked his view. Squinting his focus slightly, he scrutinized the person who dared stir him of his slumber as though he were expecting to see one of the scoundrels who had attacked him. However, the silhouette was too small, too curved for anyone he immediately recognized and with grave nonplus his fuzzy brain had to come to the conclusion that the figure was actually a female that stood before him.

For his brief twenty years, the prince had devoted everything to become an icon of fear and respect among his subjects and demanding parents; a warrior without compromise. However, sitting listlessly within the draining tank, he looked over her forma again, slowly admitting that he had never come across such exotic creature before.

The lines defining her face were soft, betraying the several winters she had been through. Her eyes were vivacious and held a spirit that was not too unfamiliar with him—they held a strong will to live, as well as the fervor of someone who had seen a few too many of life's hardships for the short time she had inhabited that fragile body of hers.

She was saying something to him but he couldn't understand an utter of her incoherent blather as the alien tongue came off disjointed. He looked at her intently, trying to make out something of her and her actions instead of her melodic voice.

Even in his fleetingly exhausted state, he could not help but find it greatly amusing when she turned her aquamarine haired head to the side slightly. An ever so small quirk of his lips rewarded her as pallid cheeks flushed with color, a petite hand reached to sprawl lazily over her eyes as she continued to mutter shyly to him.

Maybe he had indeed died and was now going to face the King of the Underworld for all he had done… Maybe this minx was just a pawn, to distract him before judgment was passed onto him for his deeds.

What he failed to realize was that the real reason the girl refused to look at him was due to the fact he was completely in the nude, droplets of the odd liquid trickling slowly down his impeccably chiselled, perfectly wound-free body…

* * *


	2. Close Encounters of the Third Kind

_**Chapter 02:**_

"_**Close Encounters of the Third Kind"**_

* * *

The teenage girl had been busying herself with putting the man's toy back together, a determined glare creasing the soft features of her cherubic face when a loud beeping sound nearly startled her out of her skin. She jumped, almost losing hold on the precious object in her hands before placing a calming palm on her chest, the constricted thumping of her heart faster than its usual rhythm.

She sighed in slight irritation as she approached the large control panel of the machine that took up most of the space in the premise, but all signs of her ire dissipated when she noticed the brief message glowing on the monitor. _Rejuvenation complete_, she thought to herself excitedly, biting her lower lip nervously—it was a nasty habit that her father always reprimanded her for.

Watching anxiously as the lid of the machine slid upwards to reveal her guest, she felt the appropriate for her age—as much as she usually hated to admit it—exhilaration at the thought of interacting with an extraterrestrial. But she was no fool. She knew he could have ill intentions towards her and her humble home. However, if that proved to be the case, she had her trusty 'ki-stripper', as she liked to call it, within an arm's reach.

Once he set foot on her floor she rushed forward to meet him. She could not help but eye quickly his perfectly healed chest, and she allowed herself a brief moment of gloating at her genius before her first attempt at conversation.

"I am glad to see that you are once again at one hundred per cent, sir!" she exclaimed excitedly, gathering his undivided attention the moment his enthralling onyx orbs pinned to her. He was well over a head taller than her but that didn't seem to make her enthusiasm flag whatsoever. "I was starting to think that you were never going to wake up. You've been out for three days straight!"

He continued staring shamelessly at her and—speaking of shamelessness—she noted that it was not just his chest that was completely exposed to view. He was still very much in the nude. Glancing away nervously with a hand to her eyes, she made sure her still childlike curiosity would not get the better of her manners. Her father had always taught her it was impolite to stare. And, given the uncomfortable situation, she figured that he was right in that it was even rude.

"Please, sir, have some decency!" she muttered indignantly, her tone rather low with embarrassment. He cocked an eye brow at the offered set of alien clothes, the absence of his own set not passing notice.

She studied his face through her fingers for a moment before looking away entirely. At first, she had been surprised to find someone so roughed up and left to the mercy of Mother Nature in the middle of that barren wasteland. She had been passing by, having one of her adventure hunts—she loved the thrill they gave her—when she noted the unconscious body. Being the softy that she was, she could not just leave him there to die! That was if he was alive in the first place…

As luck would have it, she had made it back home just in time to save the stranger's life. Seeing that he was perfectly humanoid, she had assumed that it was someone from her village who had got in a fight or something of the sort; things like that were of regular occurrence. Whatever the cause, it was _the_ opportunity she had waited for to see if her new project was working properly.

Naturally, the 'rejuvenation tank', as she had single-handedly called it, proved to be a success, just like she hadn't doubted a second it would be.

However, upon further inspection of her patient's structure and healing abilities, the young scientist had deduced that there was slim chance he was human. The damage he had taken would've rendered most of a human's organs and muscles useless as his injuries had been most severe. This specimen proved to overcome the ordeal with considerable ease, although she fancied the thought that it was her rejuvenation tank that helped guarantee his full recovery.

Once fully accepting the nature of her patient, she immediately abandoned any other work she might have had and focused all her strength on him. She had given her best to give him the best treatment, fit for a King. After all, it was her first time—_willingly_, she thought darkly—meeting an alien!

Of course, the range of help she could realistically be to him while he was resting afloat in the tank was greatly limited, thus leaving her bored out of her mind after the first day passed. Seeking desperately for something to do as she watched over him, she carefully inspected his garments, tattered and torn though they were, as well as his personal belongings. There was not much with him until she hit the jackpot.

What she found was a mystifying little machine. It reminded her of a monocle of some sort but it was larger, and it had a button on the side. Considering its curved form, she figured it was something designed to place around the ear, and so, being curious, she did. Not much happened. Well, nothing actually… at least not until she pressed the button.

Unexpectedly, the thing beeped to life, numbers and letters in a foreign language scrolled at an almost alarming pace. It was not long before the urge to take the thing apart had become unbearable.

She took an uncertain side glance at him, wondering if he was clothed yet and found that her father's old garments fit him unsettlingly well.

"Ah, that's right!" she exclaimed just as suddenly as her mood had changed, fishing in her white lab coat pocket for something while he raised his eye brow in silent wonder.

What she presented to him ceremoniously was his scouter, looking good as new. It could have just been his jumbled mind, but that thing had been next to incinerated the last time he had seen it.

"I took the liberty of taking it apart and installing some upgrades, I couldn't help myself…" She laughed sheepishly. "I hope you don't mind…?"

The last part was meant as a question, really. However, after looking over the shiny piece of equipment and then back at her with a scowl, it was obvious that the man could not understand her. Once she took her time with the alien technology, the girl had found that the object was capable of doing many things and translating had proved to be one of its many uses.

"I installed a translation program for my native tongue, so we can understand each other," she offered helpfully with a wide smile.

It was quite obvious to her he was getting rather peeved with not understanding her. The fact she was doing nothing to help him with solving that problem didn't seem to brighten his mood any… She decided there was no need for unnecessary arguments. Being the pacifist that she was, the girl simply placed the object in his hand and continued just as carelessly.

"I also took up the job of learning a bit more about you. Your… beeping thingy, or whatever it is," she offered lamely, making her kick herself mentally—and thank the gods that he couldn't quite understand her yet—"says that your name is Vegeta." It rolled off uneasily off her tongue, making her realize just how alien the name in itself was.

His intense midnight orbs looked into her once again and his dark eye brows narrowed.

"Vegeta," he corrected her pronunciation of his name flatly while placing the scouter on his ear and pressing it several times until he was satisfied with what it showed.

"Excuse me?" she asked weakly, still a bit transfixed by the low sound of his smooth baritone voice.

"If you're going to be wearing out my name, at least say it properly," he informed her coldly, glaring at her levelly. She flustered again but her anger proved to be quite short-lived as she reverted to her cheery self soon. After all, the last thing she needed was dealing with a cranky alien.

"Pleased to make your acquaintance then, Vegeta! I'm Bulma Briefs!" she said gleefully, extending a friendly hand, which he eyed warily and refrained from shaking. "Seeing you're so spirited must mean that you're making a good recovery," she deduced curtly, more to herself than to him.

"Where am I?" Vegeta demanded imperiously, his unbridled eyes callously scanning the room. She had been nothing short of affable towards this man and this was the treatment she got?

"You're in _my_ house, where I dragged your next to dead corpse three days ago," Bulma answered shortly, her patience thinning as she threw her long marine tresses over her shoulder so she could freely cross her arms in effort to show her bubbling temper. Vegeta took little note of her actions and had the full intention of asking where this so-called "home" of hers exactly was in galactic means when a thought registered within his mind.

"I've been here… for three days?" His tone was perfectly dubious which only served to fuel her anger more.

"With that kind of attitude, I think I would have preferred you stayed unconscious for all I care." This piece of information earned her a solid glare from her guest.

"How old are you, girl?" he asked suspiciously, making her eyes harden dangerously as well. Maybe it was just his imagination, but it seemed to him that her eyes changed colors in her ire. His eyes were just playing tricks on him…

"Old enough to save an ingrate such as yourself," she answered just as gruffly.

"If you think that saving my life will have me at your feet, you have deluded yourself greatly," he informed briskly, sending evil vibes her way that the girl managed to parry with some of her own.

She had always been a biased person; she could not just change the basics of her nature. It was what she was—greatly prejudiced. And, towards aliens specifically, she was greatly reserved. But when she saw his pitiful carcass lying there in the dirt, it had stirred a part of her character that she sometimes hated with a passion… Her feminine intuition told her that this guy was nothing but trouble but she pushed away the warning and treated him still.

She promised herself that she would never, _ever_ doubt her intuition again. So far it had never led her astray…

Opening her mouth, Bulma was going to give him a piece of her mind. So sad it was that she never got to start, instead fuming subtly as she was forced to first listen to his demanding inquiries.

"What is this planet? My scouter seems to have no data about it."

"You came here and you don't even know what this planet's _called_? You sure are stupider than the aliens I have come across…"

This time, her remark stung harder than he would have liked to admit and before he knew it, his body had launched itself toward her. However, he froze mid-leap, his muscles' surprisingly uncooperative with his instincts. The blood seemed to be too slow in providing the power they for such a sudden action as jumping on someone to tear them limb from limb.

She didn't seem the least bit surprised though, and instead snorted condescendingly as she walked away.

"You're on Earth and in the Capital city… or what remains of it…" she added with a sad undertone that would have slipped unnoticed has he not been paying attention. "It would be ill advised that you try any sudden movements as it will put your body to great strain. My machine might have worked wonders on you but you're still suffering from malnutrition and your muscles are barely strong enough to keep your posture."

Bulma's sapphire eyes searched intently Vegeta's sable ones. What she saw there was a broken man, lost, without hope or future. She saw obstinacy that was merely borne from the last attempts of a shattered mind to wrap around the idea that his misery had not ended, that his life had been saved by a complete stranger that he could hardly tolerate.

However, right then she couldn't bring herself to care. Had he been healthy, he would have probably made an attempt on her life and the notion didn't exactly have her hop around with joy. She had her problems too and she had had just about enough trying to persuade a manic alien that she meant him no harm. Had she wanted him dead, she would have left him to die! How hard was _that_ to understand?

"Here's a newsflash for you, in case you're still convinced you're invincible," she hissed menacingly, locking their gazes together. "Whether you like it or not, I saved your godforsaken life. I don't give a damn whether you appreciate it or not. I may be fourteen years old but I have a good head on my shoulders and should you try anything _stupid_ while I'm in the vicinity, it'll be hard to make myself hesitate before taking forcefully back what I had given away."

"Is that a _threat_?" he spat, loading the last word with most stress. His fists were clenching and unclenching by his side.

"_I_ am not the one ordering people around and making enemies when I shouldn't." She turned to leave. "You're still malnourished, _alien_," the word rolled out of her mouth as if it was the heaviest curse word known to man, "so lay back on the killing spree, alright?" With a last, lingering glare she turned on her heel and marched straight through the sliding door that connected the room and a spacious corridor, leaving Vegeta to his thoughts.

He stared at the spot she had been a moment ago and felt his left eye twitching ever so visibly. It seemed that the full weight of the situation was finally beginning to dawn on his still rather hazy mind.

He was stranded on an alien planet. His body revolted against him and proved useless to even protect him from a mere child that talked back to him as if it was her place to do so. He was completely at the mercy of a girl that hated his guts for a reason unknown to him and he had next to no future at all. All he had learnt to do his entire life was assassinate, slay and slaughter.

Now he was in a place he didn't recognize, in clothes that he didn't like and in the… 'home', as she had called it, of an annoying wench of a kid with infernal mood swings that could probably reduce even the devil to tears if he were to stay around her long enough. Vegeta gritted his teeth tightly as he contemplated what he could possibly do with the predicament he found himself in.

With knowledge of how much he angered the girl, it would not surprise him much if she returned with some other high-tech contraption to either entrap or even kill him. For all he knew, she could wait until he dropped his guard so she could attack him in his weakened state. After all, he _was_ just a bother to her—that was what she had just conveyed, wasn't it?

He was startled out of his train of thought when her aquamarine haired head poked into the room, a chillingly impatient glare on her features that could have once been labeled angelic.

"Are you coming or not?" she asked simply, awaiting just as simple of an answer but received just a bewildered look instead, which resulted in an overtly irritated sigh. "Were you listening to me when I said you're malnourished? Do you need me to spell that out for you?"

Her body was now entirely in the room again, her arms crossed over her chest in an indignant pose.

"You. Need. To. Eat." She slowed her speech condescendingly in case his brain was damaged beyond what the regeneration tank was capable of repairing. "Are you coming with me so you can eat or are you going to stand there stupefied all day?"

He blinked his surprise several times but managed to collect his composure finally, heading towards her with the graceful step of royalty. She looked only mildly pleased with his consent as she led the way to the mess hall.

"I do _not_ look stupefied…" he muttered moodily, taken completely aback when he heard her genuine laughter ring in the emptiness of the corridor.

"You're truly one weird alien!" she exclaimed, glee back in her eyes as they shone light blue and a smile adorning her features as she guided them through the maze of hallways.

He merely glared at the back of her head, shaking his own dejectedly. _If I'm the weird one, I wonder what you are…_

* * *


	3. You Scratch My Back, I Scratch Yours

_**Chapter 03:**_

"_**You Scratch My Back, I Scratch Yours"**_

* * *

He could have appreciated the short trip towards the mess hall more if it had been a quiet one. He was a man who liked his peace and basked in silence. She, on the other hand, could be considered a fiend of tranquillity and one of its most serious threats.

The luster of youth was evident in her energetic gestures and wide grin on her angelically innocent face as she elaborated on stories he couldn't possibly care less about.

He once or twice contemplated 'tuning her out' via his scouter to avoid her meaningless chatter, but discarded the notion when his stomach reminded him of the dire consequences of such a stunt.

"And, here we are!" she announced loudly in an exultant voice at the end of one of the numerous corridors they had taken. His heart, hardened from all those years in space, managed to jump with some perverse sort of relief.

Walking with her had been as dreadful as dreadful could be. He was now stranded on an alien planet and forced to eat out of the palm of the hand of a harpy of a girl whom he could kill with the flick of his wrist if he so damn desired. That was until the pain shot up his side with every step he took, compounded with his lack of ki presented a serious problem. With a defeated sigh he followed her obediently, sitting down on an oblong table that could fit at least twenty people.

"What would you like to have?" she asked whilst walking over to a gigantic cooling machine that more resembled a walk-in freezer, in which he could probably fit in, without even needing to be dismembered. He shuddered indiscernibly at the thought. "French fries with a steak, healthy salad, mashed potatoes… you name it and I got it."

"Everything," he muttered with that odd accent that made every word that came out of his mouth sound like something more special than it actually was.

She threw a puzzled glance over her shoulder at his stolid face and shrugged her shoulders.

"Alright then—I'll make you a special dish, taking a little from everything I have here," she informed briefly. "Although I'm not sure how you can stomach all of this at once…" she offered with unveiled distaste but chose not to complain any more.

He opened his mouth to reprimand her for misinterpreting him but quickly decided against it. She was obviously unacquainted with a Saiya-jin's eating habits and he wasn't going to be the one to fill her in. He would eat as much as she was willing to give him and he could hunt something—surely there were some wild animals around there!—to satisfy his hunger later. He didn't want to become too dependant on the female as it left him with a sour taste in his mouth.

"Here's your strange meal," she said as she settled a generously stacked dish in front of him. His stomach gave an embarrassing lurch and his mouth watered appreciatively. God, was he hungry!

Soon enough, she took the seat right in front of him with a much more modest half-empty bowl of salad in hand. He felt a distinct pang of discomfort.

He was a powerful alien—that much was true. She was just a misfortunate girl who had been insane enough to nurse him back to health—that was true as well. But the idea of having her starving without even forcing her into it while he feasted on her food didn't sit quite well with him. Powerful alien or not, he was still royalty and thus, was taught some manners. And it was definitely very impolite to eat more than your host… and he wasn't even going to satisfy his hunger!

"So how did you end up here?" she asked excitedly, making all thoughts of unease dissipate. He might be uncomfortable but not enough to talk to her.

"None of your business," he growled out malevolently, eyeing her warningly. She didn't even recoil.

"Obviously this subject is off-limits then…" she muttered to herself, chasing the contents of her salad around the bowl with her fork. Why was she defiling the food by toying with it? Couldn't she just eat and shut up already?

"As just about any other subject there is."

She cocked an eye brow at the statement and took the hint of finally keeping quiet. However, the placidity that he had so craved now seemed wasted, for oddly enough he found that wounding the girl's feelings wasn't as indifferent to him as he expected.

During the lengthy silence, he ate his food subtly whilst throwing quick glances her way. Bulma, on the other hand, had a vacuous gaze completely robbed of the fervor blazing within it just a second ago pinned into her salad. She tastelessly picked up a vegetable every now and then, giving it a thoughtful and long chew before swallowing. An ugly frown of great disappointment was creased pinkish lips, marring her youthful features. It wasn't right and he knew it…

"You actually managed to program my scouter for just three days?" he piped up finally, the words rolling off his tongue with intricately veiled distaste.

However, his contempt for himself vanished immediately when he saw her face light up—if slightly cautiously—again as she stared intently at him, wondering if her ears were playing tricks on her just for the heck of it.

"Well… no… actually I programmed it for two days. I was too busy running procedures on you during the first." Although keen enough to remain impassive, she internally waited eagerly for his reaction. All he offered instead was an intrigued quirk of the eye brow while swallowing a particularly large french fry.

"You dealt with alien technology for only two days? I'm impressed," he confessed frankly, turning his attention to the food in front of him again.

One didn't need to be a rocket scientist to realize that it was the closest thing to a compliment you could receive from the obdurate space traveler.

She giggled inwardly as she observed him practically inhaling the food, groaning every now and then when he overworked a muscle or two. She thought it cute how he didn't want her to misunderstand his intentions. She couldn't help her enthusiasm though.

As for Vegeta, he found very unsettling the fact how easy he could converse with her as long as he wasn't too condescending.

* * *

He strode along the vast maze of corridors of the large complex in deep thought.

"_Take any room you like, wherever you like it—it's not a problem. All of them are vacant as it is. You should take a rest, too—I wouldn't want you to collapse again just as you had got up. I'll be here if you happen to need anything."_ He recalled her words and her smiling face when she had said that and snorted. It was as if she was intentionally rubbing in exactly how dependant he was. It infuriated him but he didn't have a choice, did he? First he had to regenerate and then, and only then, could he even begin to contemplate space travel.

He had not realized that he stopped in front of one of the said vacant rooms, deciding that it was as good as any. Pushing the door handle lightly, he was greeted with a perfectly tidied space. It almost had a cadaverous feeling to it; the polar opposite of the girl entertaining him with brainy arguments earlier.

As much as it disgusted him to admit it, Vegeta actually _enjoyed_ their unassuming chat. The sound of her laughter and carefree smile was somewhat disturbing, unnerving since it was something he was not used to. Like a feline, he abhorred new things with a passion. However, in a way he did not seem to mind this careless world that she was trying to impose on him.

There were no megalomaniacal space aliens making attempts on his life; no rotten fathers trying to make his life a living hell; no back-stabbing hitmen just lying in wait for him to show any signs of a potential weakness so they could manipulate him to suit their whim.

Heaving a deep sigh, he threw himself on the bed, clicking his scouter a few times in order to view all newly installed data. It was clear that with as much on his mind he would likely not get much sleep tonight, so he may as well keep himself busy with something…

* * *

Early next morning, Bulma caught a glimpse out of the corner of her eye of someone descending the stairs. She shifted her attention from the blue-print she was developing to her guest, who was approaching her with a tight scowl.

"Good morning, Vegeta. Did you sleep well?" she offered as amiably as ever, turning her gaze back to the print. The answer to her inquiry was just a moody grunt and thus made her look up once again. "Where are you going? And where is your scouting thing?"

"First of all," he surprised her as he turned on his heel, speaking flawlessly in her language, "it's not a "scouting thing," it's called a scouter. And second, I don't need it. I can understand you perfectly fine without its aid. And I think you've figured the answer to your other question already."

"You're saying that you learnt my language overnight?" She had a dubious eye brow raised as high as it could arch. "You're pulling my leg. That's physically impossible."

"I'm talking to you now, aren't I?" he reasoned logically, making her stare in wonder at the back of his scalp. Her mouth opened and closed inaudibly a few times as her brain processed the information that just refused to register it. While she struggled with a response, he put on his white gold-tipped boots with a few trained movements sparing him a lot of muscle expenditure.

"Staggering…" she wheezed out finally. "Simply amazing…"

Her heart leapt in her throat as he turned around once more, the disgruntled frown no longer on his face but rather an offensively attractive smirk that made his edgy features stand out more in the bright light filtering through the window on the other side of the room.

Without another word, Vegeta left the girl to deal with herself and stalked out of the compound. His stomach was still growling from yesterday and needed to find something more suitable. An hour or so later, he stormed back inside the private palace, fuming. To his shock, there was nothing edible around. And even if there had been, he would have been unable to do anything about it because the moment he had tried running, a sharp pain shot throughout his entire body without warning. The intensity was such that it brought him humiliatingly close to his knees.

"How did your walk go?" Bulma's nonchalant voice interjected with his self-bashing.

"Dreadfully," he replied snappily. He gave a resigned sigh then, "What's for breakfast?"

* * *

His eyes squinted in the darkness as he wondered what had woken him the middle of the night. He squirmed in his uncomfortable position on the couch in the living room. Looking over the tall cloth back, a bright light flashed into his sensitive eyes. Vegeta flinched back into the cushion, glaring up a moment afterward to focus on Bulma tampering with some blue print before he gave an involuntary groan.

"Sorry—did I wake you?" She jerked around slightly alarmed. It was a rather obvious question, to which he chose not to indulge with an answer.

"What the hell are you doing?" he snapped instead.

"I'm working—what else does it look like?" Her tone implied that she was not in one of her most jovial moods.

"I can _see_ that," he retorted in an almost offended voice. He was not blind beyond her inconsiderate nature; it seemed inconsistent for her to talk to him like that. She was just a little girl and she dared to tell him off, _him_, of all people she could pick to irritate first thing when roused from sleep! "Don't you have a designated place for working or whatever it is that you're doing?"

"Don't _you_ have a designated place for sleeping, like a room for instance?" she lashed back cleverly, forcing him to frown at the ceiling as he lay back down on the couch.

"The bleakness of that room is maddening."

"I share your sentiment on the matter completely and that's why I'm here," she muttered, never parting her mind and gaze from the plans before her. "Besides, I have a perfect view of the front entrance this way."

There was a sort of doleful undertone to her words, but she mercifully didn't elaborate on that crumb of information. He thanked her silently. He loathed being subjected to listening to others' teary life tales equally as much as he loathed talking about his own.

So, deciding that he had had enough idle chit-chat for that late an hour, he turned to his other side and dozed off to dreamless sleep again.

* * *

Day after day passed and instead of feeling better, Vegeta felt an even greater strain upon his body until one morning the rigor of morning rituals proved too much for him to handle and he finally collapsed.

He was not expecting Bulma to be by his side when he was woke up this time. Her dozing form drifted in and out of consciousness as her eyes opened every few minutes to see if he had come to. When their gazes met, the girl jerked wide awake and stared at him through still swimming-with-slumber eyes.

"You're conscious—good! I was starting to seriously think that my machine did some internal damage to you or something even more atrocious. I couldn't see what was wrong with you while I patched you up and dragged some equipment from the infirmary here, but I assure you that as soon as I find what caused this, I'll—" She stopped abruptly mid-brag to scrutinize, with half-opened sleepy eyes, his listless expression. But it was not his face that bothered her. It was his behaviour "You know why this happened, don't you?" She rationalized, making him whip his head towards her.

A torrent of emotions washed over him and a million thoughts sprang to mind, with just as many things that he could say to her in that situation. However, instead of saying whatever he just kept quiet, adopting the petulant pout of a spoilt brat and turning his attention to the nearest wall as though it deserved the glower more than the girl next to him.

"Look, if you don't tell me about those things, how am I supposed to get you back on your feet?" When he didn't answer and kept the façade, she gritted her teeth tightly. "Don't you _want_ to get better?" There still was no sign he was listening to a word she said, "Okay, fine, whatever…! Suit yourself—torture yourself to death if you so damn want to—I don't care anymore. Next time just tell me when you go on with your suicidal attempts so I don't worry over you, alright?" she snapped moodily, the lack of sleep of the last few days showing clearly.

She had been about to demonstratively waltz out of his room and slam the door like people on television often did when his voice stopped her, eradicating all intentions of retreat from her garbled mind.

"You actually _worried_ over me… Why?" He could not help asking. He couldn't fathom the concept - it eluded him. All he had done was argue with her every chance he got the last few days, getting every rise he could from her anger. She should hate him about now—any normal being in their right mind should! He voiced his thoughts and didn't bother hiding his ire when she laughed wholeheartedly at his inquiries.

"We're not really _arguing_, Vegeta. We're just keeping our minds busy—loneliness tends to do that to people." She crouched next to his bed, a warming smile pulling on the corners of her ample lips. "And, as useless as you are—" he cocked an annoyed eye brow at that which only served to further amuse the female, "—you can be pretty good company, regardless of whether you like it or not. I was living here alone most of the time before you came. Even if I don't study your healing patterns, habits or stature, you're still a precious companion. And companions don't keep each other in the dark about their problems."

He was watching her closely, bafflement dancing uncontrolled on his features. These concepts she spouted like they were normal routine were as alien to him as she was. Companionship, togetherness, worry… When nothing seemed to dawn on him, she released a slightly exasperated sigh.

"Let's make a deal then, if this bothers you so damn much… You'll be my bodyguard, study specimen and companion and in return, you get a roof to sleep under, all sorts of machinery at your disposal and all the food you can eat—do we have a deal?"

She looked expectantly at him as he propped himself with his back against the huge fluffy pillow she had given him. He seemed to contemplate it for a short while before agreeing, with a faintly reluctant nod.

He had no idea what he was getting himself into…

…But then again, neither did she…

"Good then!" she exclaimed happily, jumping to her feet. "Is there anything I can offer you to solidify our deal?"

"Yeah…" She raised her eye brows suggestively, urging him on. "I'm hungry."

In no time, she disappeared through the door and, after some inspiringly short shuffling in the kitchen she was back with a large bowl of noodles. He practically inhaled them and handed her the empty bowl—she had a particularly pleased expression on her face.

"Refill," he demanded listlessly.

After her tenth descent down the stairs, Bulma smiled lightly to herself while she carried the large platter with all sorts of foods on it. She knew now what caused the collapse of his system. It was no wonder—he had eaten so much and his hunger still was yet to flag!

This guy was going to be one peculiarly interesting subject to study, she knew it already…

* * *

_I'm not really certain if you know how much it means to an author to know that their work is appreciated. How can you have an author know you care? By reviewing, of course. I'm not sure which is more pathetic—asking for reviews or knowing people read your story and adamantly refuse to comment, probably thinking it isn't worth their time… It kind of makes me feel stupid spending a minimum of four hours writing chapters…_

_Either way, I humbly thank those who care enough to review and let me know what they think. I wouldn't mind having you tell me what you want to see more of, what I should elaborate more on and if there's something that irritates you that you want fixed. If you encounter any mistakes—any whatsoever,—don't hesitate to tell me outright immediately. Thanks for your attention. _

_Yours sincerely, Dark Hope Assassin._


	4. Spark of Genuine Interest

_**Chapter 04:**_

"**_Spark of Genuine Interest"_**

* * *

****

She yawned so widely that she thought her jaws might snap and separate. As a matter of fact, she had yawned so many times already that tears were starting to well in her eyes.

It was understandable why she was so exhausted, but the craved sleep was the one wish she didn't have the power to grant herself at the moment.

The last few days were spent huddled over plans for her best work ever. This time she would surely surpass her limits as a mere human being!

Vegeta was stabilizing steadily as well and she aptly deciphered from his ki readings that he was a quite powerful alien. Caution warned her though that he might eventually destroy stuff in his boredom, and wishing to evade the demolition of her home, and planet, first thing when he got off the sickbed, she thus took on the initiative of building him a room which could create artificial gravity. It was to keep him occupied.

Her mouth opened involuntarily again to release another loud yawn. Her intentions had been nothing short of positive, but her bad habit of trying to do everything all in a breath was seriously beginning to dull her senses.

"What the hell are you doing still up so early in the morning?" A voice inquired from behind her, and she jumped at the realization that she was no longer alone. Her insomnia must have also been facilitating her edginess as well, she concluded…

"You're improving greatly in asking stupid questions with obvious answers, I have to give you as much," Bulma commented dryly, her half-opened eyes narrowing, delicate brows knitting. Vegeta mimicked her expression with an even sourer look on his sharp features. He was _not_ a morning person and this was definitely _not_ the start of a good day.

"Well, I have you as an example how to do it as successfully, don't I?" Bulma rolled her eyes. This argument was starting to get old and childish. She was in no mood to be argued with. As a matter of fact, she was in no mood to be talked to either. It was just a waste of her energy—talking. She had basked in the quietness of the night, leaving her just to her complicated thoughts, and she was quite reluctant to have her peace disrupted.

She understood a bit how Vegeta had felt now when he yelled at her for interrupting his train of though. Still, that didn't mean that once she had had some much deserved sleep she wouldn't go back to being her cheerful self.

"I'll rephrase then—what the hell is so goddamn urgent that you can't pause for a moment to have your damn robots make me breakfast?"

Bulma's expression turned scathing, followed by an unlady-like snort. This sort of behavior was common enough for her to deduce that he had serious personality issues.

"How nice of you to worry so over my well-being."

The girl gave a side glance as he poured himself a hot drink to wake up, probably. Like on a command, her mouth began to water and she had to shake herself of thoughts of breakfast. If she ate, all her blood would rush to her stomach and she then would be unable to think clearly over her project and be in an even stronger need of a nap. Needless to say, that was one thing she couldn't have, not after working for so long.

So, releasing a heavy sigh that seemed to tear itself from her tired lungs, she relented that it sometimes was painful to be as stubborn as she was.

"If you just _have_ to know," she muttered flatly, "I'm building a gravity machine." She could almost feel Vegeta cocking a curious eye brow.

"A gravity machine?" he repeated dully. "Of what use might _that_ kind of invention be to you?"

"It's not for _me_, stupid." Vegeta's eyes narrowed alarmingly at the insolent reference to him, "I'm building it for you so you don't go off purging my planet… or whatever… I really can't think of anything other than physical laws right now so I would be really grateful to you if you just _shut up_ and leave me to my project." She paused slightly, and then added a sarcastic, "Thank you."

Instead of taking this as cue to leave, the flame-haired man just stood there, scrutinizing her with a puzzled expression, the steaming cup still in the tight grip of his war-worn fingers.

"You're building it for _me_?" he repeated disbelievingly.

"If you keep bothering me I might decide that you're not worth the hassle," threatened Bulma in a dangerously low tone. It was a lie, of course. She was far too wary of the alien's power to allow him to just run around uncontrolled. A gravity room like that—the perfect training ground for insane megalomaniacs—would at least keep him busy before he was tired enough to pass out.

She could feel him looming above her, looking over her shoulder at the plans and calculations of the prototype. She didn't comment on his nosiness and instead continued her work as if he hadn't just intruded upon her thinking process. In fact, she got so caught up—already a bit delirious—that she failed to note the moody snort and the gentle tap of porcelain against wood that followed.

It didn't take a genius to understand that Vegeta was not a person used to having others do things for him of their own free will, not to mention make him such precious gifts. Oddly though, what struck him the most was that this girl, whom he had known for no more than several Earth weeks, was ready to rob herself of her sleep just to build him a toy that would inevitably make him stronger.

He stared a bit at the complex equations on the blue thick paper, then a bit at the back of her aquamarine head before snorting. She was the strangest creature he had encountered in all his travels in the Universe; that much was certain… He huffed to himself for even contemplating it, but decided that she needed it more than he did and set the mug of hot chocolate on the farthest end of the table.

She didn't even look up, to which Vegeta was greatly thankful. He didn't feel like talking to her any more. He decided that, instead of roaming the huge compound like a ghost, he might as well get some more sleep. He had the definite feeling that the more he slept, the faster his power returned.

Offering one last lingering glare at the steaming mug, as though it was the reason why the woman was as self-sufficient and stubborn as she was, Vegeta slowly retreated to his solitary confinement.

Bulma noticed the beverage only after he was long gone. Blinking a few times to verify that she was not actually asleep, she sent a knowing smirk toward the door before rolling up her sleeves. She knew that if she gave it her best, she might be able to be done in an hour or so.

* * *

The next time Bulma opened her cerulean eyes it was to the sound of birds chirping outside her bedroom window. She yawned lightly, rubbing her sheet pressed cheeks and gathering her bearings. It took several uncertain stares at the alarm clock on her bed stand before she finally recognized what time it was.

Groaning, she collapsed back into the beguiling comfort of her soft sheets. Well, Vegeta was cruel enough to come and wake her if he needed anything urgent, so maybe she could lie down for a bit more…

Her stomach took this thought as a cue to growl as loudly as it could, and she clutched tightly to her abdomen with infinite thanks to whatever deity there was that she was currently alone in the spacious room. It was true that she hadn't eaten in more than a day as her policy on eating while working was very strict. The thought of even a simple sandwich had her mouth watering unbearably now.

She sighed again while pushing herself into a sitting position.

Morning rituals were a waste of time that would only delay her from the delicious prize, so the girl headed downstairs without even as much as peering into a mirror. If she had, she would have found a grumpy-looking pallid girl with heavy bags under her half-opened sleepy eyes blinking lazily back at her. You can say she was quite a sight to see.

Her hazy gaze only narrowed upon the sight that greeted her when opening the large fridge. Her sapphire orbs examined as patiently as they could the damage caused by the recurring raids. He proved to have a black hole for a stomach over the past few days. She found with a discernible note of bitterness that there was barely anything edible left for her.

Rolling her eyes in irritation, she figured that she might as well make a trip to the city for some groceries. She was short on parts for the Gravity Room, as she dubbed it, anyway. She'd kill two birds with one stone. Besides, it was the perfect opportunity to walk her guest a bit.

Where was he anyway? It didn't seem like Vegeta to still be asleep and there were some freshly used dishes in the sink. She hadn't passed him on her way through the living room. Upon some further investigation and a munched sandwich later, she found him in the back yard, throwing punches and kicks at an incorporeal opponent.

She decided to just stay there for a tad bit longer and observe his mesmerizing fluid moves for just a minute more.

He wasn't usually totally graceless, despite his uncivilized way of conversing (which, by the way, always ended up as a stupid argument over something insignificant), in the things he did. As a matter of fact, there was the air of dignity surrounding him, even while he slept. But, somehow, during training, his aura that could've rivaled that of a regal intensified greatly. The man was truly a puzzle, she thought.

"You're off your bed." It truly was an obvious, unpleasing fact.

He stopped his repetitive actions to send her a glare out of the corner of his eye.

"And you're interrupting my training. Disappear!" he commanded rudely, making her cock an angry eye brow before he went back to what he was doing.

"There's barely any food left in the fridge and I'm low on parts," she informed coolly.

"And how is that any of my concern?" he snapped, not even sparing a second to look at her again. Her small fists clenched into pure white balls from the pressure she was applying.

"We need to re-supply," she seethed. "You're coming with me to the city for new supplies." It was rather more of a command—a statement—than a request from a friendly land-lady to her free-loader. Vegeta stopped in mid-kick to turn his head her way, a decent death glare in place met with a sapphire gaze of the same intensity.

"I feel no compelling need to do as you want me to." He crossed his arms smugly over his chest, smirking in a self-satisfied way as he dropped his rigid stance. "You can't boss me around to suit your whim, measly human female!"

Bulma's brow twitched at the retort, but oddly enough, her knuckles relaxed and she placed an equally confident and smug smile on her face while her arms pulled themselves across her chest.

"Oh? So that's how it is now, is it? You have the balls to eat all my food but you're not man enough to escort a lady to the closest town? I must confess I'm really disappointed, Mr. Alien!" She even had the guts to wave a finger at him.

His body was already shaking with anger but all that he could reply was,

"What a vulgar woman…!"

* * *

As the scenery flew by, the pair of onyx orbs was pinned to the sky; their possessor wondering what he had done to deserve this kind of treatment from an earthling female, who was perhaps a million times physically weaker than him. And to actually be _forced_ to _endure_ it! He had been completely dishonored, that much was certain now…

"So," she chirped in the most cheerful of moods, making his spirits dampen even more. "How did you end up so torn up?"

"None of your business, obnoxious earthly girl," Vegeta grumbled beneath his breath while he watched the young trees zoom past them. They were in what Bulma had called the Hover car XKT 2000, which as she uselessly elaborated, stood for "extra comfortable travel"… though he failed to see the exact logic of it.

Bulma looked over her shoulder at the guy's depressed expression. Or at least it was as depressed as Vegeta could feel such an emotion in the first place… She bit the inside of her cheek and chewed on it impatiently.

"Then, is your species also a secret matter?" At that carefully worded question he snorted before replying.

"What good will it do you even if I tell you?" His eyes narrowed a bit more and became more distant, as if his mind had fluttered somewhere else in that second, "All my people are already dead any way."

"Eh?" she started, bewildered eyes looking at him in the mirror.

"Every single one of my people was annihilated by a monster that plans to have the Universe at the palm of his hand one day," He submerged so deeply into his memories that it took this entire sentence before he snapped out of the daze. Suddenly jumping at the defensive again, he issued a glare toward the rear-view mirror. "But that has nothing to do with you, so I see no reason why I should tell you."

Bulma blinked innocently a few times, then started pushing buttons furiously. Vegeta sighed, convincing himself that he had finally managed to shrug her off his shoulders, but instead found her hugging the back of her seat while the craft continued to speed flawlessly onward.

"Hey, hey, with that kind of attitude like yours, plus the way you speak of this, you must've been a big shot, huh? You've got me really interested this time!" she confessed, her eyes almost sparkling, as if just to prove her point. Irked, Vegeta pulled a bit farther away from her vexing pools of cerulean relentlessly beaming at him.

"You're one damn persistent girl, aren't you?"

"You're the one who's being needlessly stubborn. Besides, if you tell me some specifics about yourself I might actually be able to make the gravity chamber a bit more compatible with your power, right?" He looked dubious at that piece of information. "And the past is the past, right? There's nothing you can do about it but accept it and move on."

"For your few years you sure speak easily of time," he seethed accusingly, glaring at her through onyx slits, only to be met by resignation from the girl in the driver's seat. Something in her sad, reminiscing expression disturbed him greatly.

"Everyone tends to think that if you're little, fate spares you some of its ugliness. I can't imagine why they would think that."

Vegeta groaned and crossed his arms, relaxing his spine against the soft cushions of the hover car. He was used to the heavy atmosphere that followed him wherever he went, but having it amplified by this usually so happy-go-lucky creature's… It was oddly unsettling.

"I was the prince of the race once proclaimed as strongest in the Universe." His calm voice seemed to snap her out of her reverie. She beamed once again with interest as her full attention was directed at him.

"Prince… did you say…" she asked in a dazzled voice. The alien regal smirked complacently and nodded.

"I was also ranked as one of the super elites, with a fighting power that exceeded even my father's. Since the Saiya-jins were a warrior race, a nation of people ready to die if only just to have an interesting fight, Lord Frieza felt intimidated by us and quickly sent his loyal goons, the Ginyu Force—"

He paused briefly to smirk at her comment, "The _Ginyu_ Force? How imbecilic can you get when finding a group to name it _the Ginyu Force_?"

"—to exterminate the entire planet and leave not a single Saiya-jin alive."

Why was he telling her all this?

He didn't show it outwardly (as if he ever would) but he was actually _listening_ to every single appreciative noise she made while he was telling her his story. To him, it was like telling a child a bedtime story about kidnapped princesses and knights in shining armors.

"I tried to fight against them but in the end only had myself trampled over. They discarded me on this planet like mere trash," He clenched his fingers so tightly into fists that he was glad Bulma had remade his gloves—otherwise he would've certainly drawn blood.

After a moment, the girl huffed thoughtfully, drawing attention from his fury.

"Boy, you Saiya-jin princes sure are individualists, eh?" He quirked an exasperated eye brow at her as she relaxed again against the driver seat. "It's true that this is your story, but it's always "I, I, I"—you make it seem as if there was no one else around but you and those Ginyu Force sissies." She took measures to disable the autopilot. "Don't say it as if you didn't care what happened to all your subjects and family. It doesn't make you more of a man."

The royalty snorted as he watched her take a sharp turn with a bit too much passion than was necessary.

"As if a powerless female like you would know what it is to fight against the strongest force in the Universe! To you, it probably all seems like a game!" He was getting more and more peeved by the word. "Being the only one to be denied the chance to die in a glorious battle, as if a powerless underage woman like you can understand such a thing!"

"Oh? And since when is a meaningless massacre a 'glorious battle'? And being the only survivor… isn't it the survivor's duty to deliver the vengeance of the deceased, to avenge their pride, instead of whimpering over his own bruised ego?"

She threw him the most chilling glare. There was so much hatred. So much anger in it that it seemed to steal the air around it, and he had to take a second to gather his wits again.

"I see that rung some bells. If so… then why do I get this feeling of disillusionment from the sole survivor of a warrior race? If you're really the prince you say you are, shouldn't you know which path you should take from now on?"

The question hung in the air, coming down heavily on Vegeta as he wanted to retort something. He desperately wanted to say something! Who was this girl to lecture him on how to live his life? What did she know of hopelessness? Of disappointment in one's own powerlessness? What did she know of life's rigors?

However, while he looked at her stern profile as she landed the hover car, he got the feeling that maybe she knew more than he gave her credit for.

After they got off the vehicle, for a few minutes they walked in suffocating silence. Bulma had her long fringe covering her face, so he had no idea what was going on. It wasn't as if he cared enough to put any effort into it, though.

The most puzzling thing happened next. When she lifted her head up, she had the brightest of grins in place, beaming directly at him. He flinched at the sudden change of mood.

"Say, Vegeta, do you Saiya-jins have some special food you'd like to have? Let's go to the super market first and we can go to old man Ox's place for spare parts afterwards!"

He did whatever she asked as if he had no other choice and was greatly surprised to not have her mention their previous conversation at all. Was this the prize for being so obedient? It certainly had a very unpleasant ring to it.

* * *

Her loud laughter irritated his sensitive hearing.

"That lady at the super sure was surprised when we bought off half her stock! I hope we can make it through the week with this." She fumbled with the capsule case in her chest pocket, while Vegeta eyed her in an annoyed manner.

"I'm sure that what surprised her more was that huge double fridge you produced from that tiny thing you have." His eye brow twitched visibly.

"Ah, well, it _is_ a new product, after all…" she pondered quietly to herself, then shrugged. "Let's get to Ox King's place now. I have to get working over that Gravity chamber soon!" And with that, she grabbed Vegeta by the wrist to drag him off in the direction of the spare parts shop.

They went through a quite old-looking door, an obnoxious bell above the threshold announcing their arrival.

"Hello and welcome to Ox's Mechanical Workshop, how may I be of service to you?" chirped a bubbly raven haired girl from behind the desk. It seemed like a line that she practiced in reciting it to every single customer. However, once she saw who was at the door, her eyes widened with recognition. "Bulma! You're Bulma, right?" asked the girl, zigzagging from behind the counter towards the happy looking cerulean-haired girl. "Daddy! Bulma's come to visit us!" she yelled only a second later, clasping her slightly tanned and work-worn hands with Bulma's pallid ones.

Soon, a burly head poked from what Vegeta assumed was the workshop and the huge man's eyes beamed at the two girls.

"Bulma! Long time, no see!" he yelled atop his lungs, tears of happiness welling in his eyes. Vegeta scrunched up his nose in disgust. What a sad excuse for a man that person was.

Before he knew it, Bulma's order was completed - with a few added extras, with her being what they called "a loyal customer" and all. The two young women sat on a bench just outside the shop, talking about feminine nonsense. And, since he didn't want them to pass some disease or another on him, the Saiyan stood a few feet away from them, leaning on the wall.

The fact that he was slightly away from them didn't mean that he couldn't hear what they were saying, though.

"So, what's his problem?" the dark haired girl, chimed. ChiChi, he guessed was her name based on said overheard eavesdropping.

"Ah, don't mind him," Bulma waved a dismissive hand. "It's just the way he is—not the social type, you see." ChiChi cocked up a delicate eye brow at this and threw a shameless stare Vegeta's way.

"I see… So he has a general personality issue then," she concluded in a smug tone, making the Saiya-jin want to wring her neck.

"Don't we all have them anyway?" It was quite a rhetorical question on Bulma's side, but it achieved its goal as the other girl broke in laughter, as did the oddly hair coloured female. Vegeta, on the other hand, allowed his tension to lessen as he watched his hostess out of the corner of his eye.

For the last few days he had done everything in his power to be nothing but a pain in her neck, and here she was, defending him in a weird kind of way in front of her silly little friend. Was she stupid? Could someone acknowledged as a 'genius' be as dense as that?

He sighed to himself and crossed his arms over his chest. She wouldn't live for long in a world as harsh, he decided.

* * *

"So, what have you been up to, Bulma?" ChiChi smiled warmly at her friend. "I haven't seen you around much lately… Work?" Her voice was laced with empathy. Bulma returned the smile and nodded slowly.

"Yeah, well, you can say that. I was kind of busy and… just wanted to be alone for a while, I guess." She lifted apologizing sapphire orbs at her friend. "I think you'd understand that kind of thing."

"Of course!" the other girl chirped a bit too soon and slightly too energetically not to be suspicious. "A girl needs some alone time every once in a while, after all!" She nodded her raven haired head in understanding. "So how did you end up with Mister Moody over there? He doesn't seem like your type…" ChiChi put a thoughtful hand on her chin.

Had you blinked, you would've missed—like ChiChi did—the quick flash of pink that crossed Bulma's pale features the instant the question registered. In mastering her emotions after all these years, she managed to gather her wits in a second's worth of time.

"As if _you_ would know what type is my type, ChiChi." Both girls giggled merrily at that. "He's just someone I rescued from certain death, that's all," said Bulma smugly, making the other youth's eyes widen in wonder.

"Man, Bulma, how do you always manage to get yourself into these messes?" ChiChi mumbled while rubbing her forehead worriedly. Bulma cackled mischievously.

"Now, now, ChiChi. Envy doesn't suit you much, so don't envy me too much!"

"Envy you?" exclaimed incredulously the darker one, but saw no use in trying to lie to herself, or even to her best buddy. "Well, I guess just a tiny bit."

"Why don't you come with me on my next adventure? We can look for the legendary Tear of the Mermaid Princess! The books say the boat carrying it got shattered by the legendary sea monster somewhere around here!" ChiChi's onyx orbs shone with anticipation for a moment before it disappeared.

"I wish I could, but God forbid me to leave this place in my dad's care… We'd go bankrupt, you know!" The two broke in another fit of giggles suited for human females their age. "I wish someday I would be able to join you."

"Of course! You can count on me—I'll find a solution to your problem. Shared adventure feels better any way than being alone!" Bulma flashed a lingering smile at her long-time friend as she got up from the bench, which was ChiChi's cue to stand as well. "It's fun just being here and chatting but we should be getting back home soon. Father should be coming home and I want to be there when that happens!"

"Alright, alright, you don't need to make up excuses just to be alone with the odd alien guy!" chided ChiChi playfully, nudging her friend knowingly.

"As if!" exclaimed Bulma with an incredulous grin in place, her tone just as teasing as the other girl's. Their gazes locked for a bit before they shared a quick hug. "Good luck with your business! I'll come again soon!" she called over her shoulder as she and Vegeta went on their way towards the hover car parking.

"Don't lie to me, Bulma Briefs—that's what you _always_ say!" She could hear the girl's melodic laughter bouncing off the walls of the surrounding buildings.

When Bulma was finally out of sight, ChiChi sat down on the bench again, eyes fixed on a particular spot on the ground. She succumbed to her thoughts, wondering if Bulma would really be okay with that guy, all alone in Capsule Corporation. She sighed and lifted her eyes to pin them at the cloudy sky.

"It's going to rain soon," she informed meaninglessly no one in particular.

* * *

"Ahhhh!" exclaimed Bulma loudly with a stretch once they were a good distance away. "Meeting ChiChi got me really excited!" She turned around to look disturbingly enthusiastically at Vegeta, who froze mid-stride, his foot suddenly having difficulty in finding the ground again. That expression of hers definitely didn't bode well… "Let's do something fun together before heading home!"

While she dragged him away to his doom, Vegeta wondered what he had done to deserve having 'fun together' with that girl… and why he was allowing her to treat him that way in the first place.

* * *

An hour and a half, and many wrecked nerves, later, Bulma and Vegeta were once again strolling down the same street. Vegeta had a much crosser expression on his face, while Bulma was busy sputtering nonsense about the envelope in her hands.

"I'm so glad you went along with this, Vegeta! You're the best!" At mentioning the farce, the Saiya-jin Prince sweatdropped. It was an experience he would rather keep trying to forget, "Who said that starting to collect memorabilia turned you into an old lady?" She was swiftly checking the pieces of paper in her hands. "But you have to admit the one which I took was the best!" She shoved a particular one in his face.

It was a graphic image of him taking off a piece of human clothing from a different century—a "toga" it was, if he recalled quite right—that the perky teen had insisted on them both changing into, just for the sheer 'fun' of it all. He was firmly against the idea, but she threatened him into it, as humiliating as it was. She then even had the nerve to take a 'picture' of him while dressing himself in his own clothes!

Bulma had been thankful that the camera that she used was an instant one, because her perfect Kodak moment would've been ruined by Vegeta's way too short temper. In the end, she had had to pay for taking the pictures _and_ for the camera, which was only a pile of smoldering rubble after they left, but it was well worth it.

He walked silently after her down the busy street. She was still too excited to notice the ominously dark clouds gathering above the city.

"You shouldn't be so quiet, though. You can't scare me, but you really intimidate others!" she scorned, turning around with a playful frown on her features. "Take that guy at the photo shop for an instance! He really thought you'd blast _him_ for giving me the camera!"

"You're so loud and annoying. Can't you keep quiet even for a second?" he finally snapped, his eyes aflame with irritation.

Bulma suddenly halted in her tracks and the alien took the opportunity to have a breather as well. It was odd how this much was still proving taxing to his still feeble body.

"It really is so nice to pretend to be a normal girl every once in a while," she muttered listlessly, while looking up towards the sky. "I know it's a selfish request, but please bear with me for today."

She then turned around to look at him, a wide smile plastered on her face that made his eyes flinch; the only indication that he sensed something wrong. Even though she was smiling, it was heart-wrenchingly insincere, because it was the type of smile strong girls put on when they actually wanted to cry but would never allow themselves to do so.

And it was the kind of smile that even the so-called callous Saiya-jin Prince couldn't say 'no' to.

So the only thing he had left was to sigh in defeat and shrug his broad shoulders to show her his resignation. It took her a mere instant to brighten up again, back to this bubbly personality that he now _feared_ with all his being.

"Now that we have that covered, let's go have a quick drink before heading home!" she exclaimed and started toward a cozy-looking place round the corner. His eye brow was twitching but his feet followed the same path she had taken.

They sat on horseshoe-shaped couches with cushions and had a polite waitress take their order. Bulma had ordered for both of them milkshakes and had a piece of cake. Looking at her stuffing her face with the chocolaty goodness was unsightly at its best.

"I'll go for a quick walk," he informed her as he sat up and waltzed unceremoniously out of the café.

The adolescent scientist waited until she could no longer see the alien on the other side of the window. She let her grin falter as she pinned her gaze to the pastry in the small plate in front of her.

"You always liked sweets, didn't you mom…" she whispered before sighing and looking towards the heavens. Her eyes narrowed to small sorrowful slits. Rain was pelting the ground and all the passersby outside. It was coolly drumming against the windowpanes of the café and sending poisonous needles of pangs of pain towards her heart. "I hate the rain."

He had been slightly worried about his body's reaction to the small amount of ki he had released to incinerate that camera. The flesh on his right hand still felt as if it was burning with his energy's warmth. He clenched his fingers into a fist and then unwound them again, his calculating eyes staring at his palm.

He was just walking, deep in thought, and before he realized it he had come back to the hover car parking. He sighed and decided that it was about time to go back and persuade Bulma to go home already, because his patience with those silly earthlings was running thin.

When he returned, soaked to the bone, he found her with an obviously paid bill, an empty tall glass in hand and head lying on the little table asleep. All the emotions of the day had probably taken their toll on her, and not to forget that she hadn't slept quite well lately. It was only natural that she would black out at some point.

She was the most mystifying creature he had ever had to deal with.

She was so much younger than him, yet had such clear answers to his complex questions. She looked silly and frankly idiotic, yet created designs to such mind-boggling machines like that rejuvenation tank of hers, or the flying vehicle. She appeared carefree and always happy, but she had episodes like those earlier that made him think that they were more of a façade than anything else.

Her hair colour was different from those of all the humans he had seen today. She was much more mature than her years than she looked. She was a sophisticated and well-mannered person, likely raised with grace. She had a kind heart and quick wit, as well as the same short temper as his.

He smirked to himself as he loomed above her while she slept soundly.

She was certainly someone worthy of his attention.

* * *

_Chapter is finally edited. Rejoice!_


	5. Lost and Found

_**Chapter 05:**_

"**_Lost and Found"_**

* * *

_He walked back to Capsule Corporation through the pelting rain with the little girl in his arms. Heads turned as they passed, like a beautiful mirage through the storm. _

_He had immediately enveloped them in his faintly glowing ki once they were outside the café, but frowned later at the memory. The owners had tried calling out after him, the cries distanced by the pattering of the downpour, probably afraid that he was kidnapping her. The idiots… As if _she_ would allow herself to be taken away by a stranger. _

_That thought though, had stung a bit. It was an odd sensation—knowing that someone trusts you, that they submit to you, that they're comfortable around you. He had never been accepted by anyone…_

_He shook his head to rid it of all the silly thoughts that just didn't suit a warrior of his stature. Whatever the circumstances and however tired she was, it was weird that she hadn't even stirred once while he carried her._

_Honestly, he expected her to at least toss around or whimper every now and then. The lines on her face as she curled in his arms asleep had certainly suggested both as possible reactions. But she had done neither. Though it seemed that his warmth had drawn her and she placed her head neatly on the crook of his neck and had pulled her arms closer to her body._

_All Vegeta could do while watching her was sigh impassively. For some strange reason her deeply creased brows while she was so sound asleep bothered him. He then glared at the form as if she was the one who made him think all those idiotic things on purpose, just to tease him._

_Nearly slamming headlong into the from gate, he stopped abruptly in front of the Capsule Corporation compound. He sighed. He didn't want his life to change… He had been content with sending useless warriors to their deaths; he had enjoyed leading his hellish army of deadly warriors to incinerate planets…_

_He had been pleased with his life of being thought of as a monster, being feared and respected for it… He didn't want _acceptance_ by _anyone_, much less a little weird girl with a head too wise for her tiny shoulders…_

Punch after punch flew through the thick air in the premise. The red lighting of the room made the sweat drops that flew from his limbs sparkle oddly before crushing to the floor abnormally fast.

He had been overexerting himself for the last week after that hellish day with that girl. Since then, he tried to avoid her at all costs. She felt like someone who could make everything around him crash and burn by just her steely logic. All her words, when she was being serious, were food for thought.

That's why he needed to occasionally remind himself of that moment when he watched her, her unguarded form as she slept in his arms, whenever he felt the tiniest bit inferior to her.

He remembered how odd he felt when he watched her reunite with her father.

The same day she had been overtly energetic, bouncing around the place, going on and on about how long it had been since she had last seen him and how many things she had to tell him. He had sincerely thought that the moment she saw the old man go through that huge door, she'd jump his neck and she'd start rambling on and on about her experiences. It was what her behaviour had suggested.

Instead, when she saw him, her enthusiasm subdued to make room for a demure, painfully sweet smile that just failed to convey the same feelings that her toothy grin could. Her tone turned from ecstatic and childish to calm and composed—one fitting for a girl far older than her. She had turned into a different person entirely.

He just watched from the corner, waiting until she decided to explain to her parent about him. He just watched from the corner and failed to see her ever-present logic in her current behaviour…

He hated her for being such a bizarre person that stirred his curiosity. Before he came to this damned planet, he hadn't even _had_ a curiosity to stir, God damn it all!

What pissed him off further was that she went out of her way to do all those things for him! This gravity chamber, for an instance. He hadn't _asked_ her to do it for him—she had just built it. Just like that. Without asking anything in return. It's not like he was going to give her anything in the first place. Yet there was a tiny part of him—an insignificantly tiny part—that wasn't pleased with that kind of generosity. He was a prince, but this girl was not even close to the kind of person he was a prince of. A powerless, witty little girl whose hair resembled the colour of her world's sky.

He sent a blast at one of the training robots that her father built for him and it sent it to the second, from which it was sent to the third, bouncing between the machines while they prepared to throw his attack at him.

What pissed him off even more was that the old man, too, accepted him and he was a bit too open about it. It seemed as if he was happy to know that someone was keeping his weird little girl company while he wasn't around. And, contrary to any twisted thought your sick head might conjure, Vegeta was not of the people who rejoiced at other people's happiness. The mere idea that his presence, one of a bloodthirsty murderer, a destroyer of worlds, made an ageing man _happy_ in the vicinity of his youthful daughter _infuriated _him. Did those people have absolutely _no_ common sense, _at all_?

His train of thought had long since derailed from its usually impassive state and, thus, made him forget all about the bouncing blast around him.

The next thing he knew was that he was laying face first on the cold floor of the gravity chamber. He gritted his teeth and pushed himself with all his power to stand up as his muscles protested.

"I hate you both so much…" he muttered disdainfully to the pair of figures in his mind that just seemed to undo him without even putting any effort in it. He closed his eyes angrily at the thought and pushed harder, now on all fours. "I really hate you so much."

* * *

Later the same day, Bulma found him moping on the couch, eyes pinned to the television as if he was actually watching.

"You've been overdoing it again, haven't you?" Really, it wasn't a question, but she felt compelled to say something. There was something infinitely eerie in a sulking powerful alien.

"None of your business," he answered flatly with a dull tone. He probably wasn't even listening to her. Her eyes narrowed at the prospect. She was far too beautiful and smart to be ignored by the likes of _him_. Still, she pushed on.

"What do you want for dinner?"

"Whatever," was his immediate reply. Her eye brows twitched and a childish pout took over her features. Oh, he was _good_. He had come up with some universal retorts that could go with _any_ question she might come up with, but he wasn't fooling her—she knew he wasn't really listening.

"Then you're not getting anything," she informed him coolly. He surprised her when he snorted at that with a definite air of indifference.

"See if I care," was his comeback. Her eye brows relaxed as she watched his stiff frame from afar. Maybe he was really sulking and she should try cheering him up…? Nah!

After about half an hour scurrying about the kitchen, and absolutely zero activity from her house guest, Bulma put down the apron and went to block Vegeta's view. He didn't move. Didn't even blink at the interference. She gave him a lopsided motherly scowl as she crouched right in front of him, their noses barely a few centimeters away. He blinked.

"You're not dead, are you?" she asked with such seriousness in her voice that his temper sparked.

"I'm _fine_," he stressed, causing her to make another face.

"Well, look it then." When his eye brows rose in puzzlement, she sighed in irritation. "Look like you're fine, because right now you look like crap."

"How nice of you to notice," he murmured short-temperedly, noting that she still hadn't removed herself from his immediate vicinity. He hated the closeness, in more than one meaning. He hated it when she acted as if she knew him.

"You haven't broken the GR, have you?" she prodded on with her stupid too-seriously spoken questions.

"Why would I have broken your stupid machine?" he asked incredulously, if a bit offended by her tone.

"Well, you're quite irritable, so I figured—"

"Stop acting as if you know me," he ground out in her face. She snorted and got back up. _Stop acting as you know everything about me!_

"What crawled up your ass and died?" she inquired rhetorically as she retreated back toward the kitchen. "And here I was trying to be nice. It just isn't worth the hassle, seriously," she hissed to herself.

…_trying to be nice…_

He gritted his teeth and got into a sitting position on the couch.

"I didn't _ask_ you to be nice to me," he made clear, refusing to look at her.

"You wouldn't, but I guess I'm just too good of a person to not be, even if it's for someone like _you_," she bit back, not really putting any meaning into it. She was far too happy with having her father around for now to put much feeling into anything else.

"… _he has a general personality issue then?" "… don't we all have them?"_

He _never_ asked her to do anything for him. He hadn't _asked_ her to save his life. He hadn't _asked_ her to take him in. Hell, he hadn't even _wanted_ to have anything to do with her in the first place! It was her fault entirely!

"If you're having a hard time all you have to do is say you need some help," he heard her say in a softer tone.

_Help… save…_ Words that barely held any meaning to him.

"I don't _need_ your help," he snapped harshly.

"You will eventually find your way, you know…" she informed him. It was a simple sentence which, nevertheless, deranged his already screwed mind even more.

She was talking down on him! She, a mere fourteen year old was _talking down…on him!_ How humiliating! A measly earth girl was trying to guide him, the great Saiya-jin prince, master of worlds, destroyer of hope… and disillusioned man. She was actually pushing her nose in his business. How annoying, how infinitely annoying.

He got up suddenly and brushed past her.

"I'm going to take a long shower. At least there I won't have to deal with _you_."

"Showers and rain can't wash away thoughts," she stated, as if he didn't already _know_. He gritted his teeth and curled his fingers into fists.

_Oh, how he hated her!_

* * *

Vegeta was sitting on the railing of the terrace of the compound and was staring at the twinkling stars above. He lifted an outstretched hand up at the heavens and ruefully closed his fingers in a tight fist. They were now so far out of his reach.

He dropped his arm when he felt a familiar presence.

"I'm not in the mood for your nagging—leave," he commanded in a falsely impassive voice. With all her audacity, she laughed at him.

"I'm not here to nag." She couldn't fool him. "Are you stargazing?" she asked conversationally.

"None of your business," the alien replied automatically. She didn't react.

"I love looking at the stars," Bulma continued, enthusiasm not faltering a bit.

"I don't care."

She stood there, staring at him for some time, probably thinking what to say next. He couldn't care less. All he wanted her to do was leave. She was the last person he wanted around right then. Over the last few days, his hate for her escalated to an entirely new level.

"Don't you get tired of being alone all the time?" she piped up after a while. He sighed exasperatedly.

"What tires me is your presence," he briefed her. She nodded curtly at that with a sour expression on her face.

"I got your point the first time."

"But you're still here," he pointed out and threw her a death glare. "Then you did _not_ get the point."

"I won't leave until you tell me what the hell your problem with me is," she insisted as she sat down next to him on the railing, much to his displeasure.

"I hate you," he hissed venomously.

"Yes, I can _see_ that." She cocked a brow at his lack of explanation. "_Why_ do you hate me?" she stressed.

"I feel no compelling need to answer any of your questions."

There was, again, another pause. He was being more difficult than usual. She must have done something seriously wrong. Were all men like him? She hoped not because otherwise she'd _never_ get married. She had the best of intentions when coming over to him, to patch things up, even ready to apologize for anything—even things she hadn't done—and here he was, disrespecting her attempts at being nice.

She was too good of a person to be acquainted with someone like him, she decided.

"Are you leaving?" he asked after a while.

"Do I look like I'm leaving?"

"You're so irritating," he said with a vexed tone.

"So are you, in case you haven't noticed it yet." He just huffed at that and decided not to honour it with an answer.

The minutes passed and neither spoke. The silence was overwhelming her, but she wasn't about to let him win. She crossed her arms over her chest and gently rubbed her arms with her hands to keep the cool summer breeze from stealing her warmth. The action didn't go by unnoticed by her guest. He shook his head indiscernibly and rolled his eyes.

"You're just so stupid and simple-minded it's not even funny," he told her in a tone as cool as the night.

"I'm not laughing," she pointed out, making him shake his head visibly this time.

"I hate you," he repeated.

"I heard you the first time."

"You know I am a ruthless killer, right?" he asked, just to make sure with himself she was completely insane.

She then took a comically deep breath expanding her ribcage to its maximum and exhaled against her hand, after which she nodded and crossed her arms over her chest again.

"Yup, I'm still breathing."

"You're tempting me," he told her while he hopped off the railing onto the cool floor of the balcony. She followed suit, but he turned around before she could follow him into his room. "_Stop_ following me around."

"No," she declared defiantly, taking a step closer to him. Their faces were so close that his sensitive nostrils were invaded by the distinct smell of her soap. "You have something to say to me—I want to hear it."

"I'm not playing along with this anymore," he claimed, turning his back to her and storming inside the room.

"Giving up so quickly? Not a very princely thing to do, I'd say," she said boldly, knowing her words would get a rise of him. The next moment she was choking on a breath as the wind had been knocked out of her. The figure of the Saiya-jin was barely outlined by the faint light of the moon as he loomed above her.

"Stop acting as if you know everything, as if you know _me_, because you _don't_," he hissed malignantly, his rough fingers digging into the sensitive flesh of her shoulders. She strangled a pained mewl in her throat before he could understand he was actually hurting her.

"You'll have to do better than this if you're trying to scare me because I'm not buying it." Her words made him push her further against the cold wall.

"Do you think I'm stupid? Do you think I don't understand what you're trying to do? Do you think this is the first time someone's tested me?" His face came closer to hers and for the first time in his presence, her heart started thumping faster with fear. She started doubting provoking him. "Here's a better question for you—what makes you think I won't snap your neck?"

She searched his insanity-filled eyes and swallowed inaudibly. Her heart rate normalized, her doubt dissipated.

"I know well the eyes of a killer," she stated and, had he not been on a rampage, his observant nature would've noted those words with interest. "Your eyes aren't those of a murderer."

"Then _please_ enlighten me. What kind of eyes _do_ I have?" He snapped with an odd tone. She seemed to think for a while, but didn't miss the fact that his fingers dug in even deeper into her shoulders.

"Those of a man who has lost his way, I guess."

He rolled his eyes.

"Oh, shut up. I don't know why I'm even bothering with you." He let go of her and turned around to march out of the room and work off his pent up frustration in the Gravity Room.

"It's because I found you when you were lost," she explained with one of her infuriating know-it-all smiles.

He threw her a last disbelieving glare before shaking his head and leaving her to her thoughts. He deemed her words unworthy of honoring with a retort. She just wasn't worth the hassle.

He hated her _so_ much.

* * *

The days passed, but the tense atmosphere remained.

"How's training going?" Bulma started innocently. Vegeta just grunted in reply. She looked at the ceiling for support. Needless to say, she didn't get any. The girl sighed heavily, "Why are so damn angry with me?"

"I thought you knew everything," he muttered accusingly between gulps as he drained a soda.

"I _never_ said such a thing—you're putting words in my mouth!" she exclaimed, crossing her arms over her chest irritably.

"Then, if you're so smart, figure it out yourself." He returned, ready to leave.

"Why are you being this way?" she finally snapped, the last of her patience dissolving.

"Let me think," he feigned. "Oh, yes—because I hate you."

Vegeta opened the door and was about to leave when Bulma ran at a mystifying speed towards him and slammed the door shut in its place with her foot. He glared at the appendage and then at its possessor in a wordless threat. She didn't budge.

"I understand that you're having a hard time coping with your present life and how things turned out, but I somehow fail to see why you're being so ungrateful to _me_. Am I not giving you a roof to sleep under and food to fill your stomach? Am I not slaving over your amusements and going out of my way to actually _converse_ with you?"

She was throwing a tantrum. He could see it in her eyes—she had finally cracked. He smirked cruelly at her and took his sweet time enjoying how the simple action actually infuriated her more. He then pulled the door and had her almost fall over while he marched out of the room. It was about time for her to suffer some as well.

"If you're half as smart as you claim to be, you should've foreseen something like this happening when you took me in," he said unceremoniously before he slammed the door in her face.

She trembled in fury and glared daggers at the door before hauling it open and screaming at the top of her lungs at the deserted hallway,

"_Asshole! I hope you burn in Hell for all eternity!_"

* * *

After her nervous breakdown that day, she had finally recognized her mistake. She never dropped her guard in front of him again. She didn't make him feel special at all. She didn't talk to him—she couldn't even care enough to look at him. Their "conversation" went always in this spirit.

"There's no (insert a type of food he might want here)."

"Then eat what's there."

"I need new robots."

"I'll see what I can do about it when I'm done with my work."

"Is the old man back yet?"

"No."

It wasn't as if those short, curt conversations changed at all even while Dr. Briefs was around. And, even though he was growing senile, the man had a good enough head on his shoulders to realize that something in the atmosphere just made it a bit too difficult to bear. It felt like the eerie calm before a huge storm.

The storm wasn't too late to come either.

"Um… is, uh…" the elderly man began, uncertain how to ask what he wanted to know, "Is something wrong between you children? It could just be me, but I think the air in here crackles with tension." He gave a merry little laugh, hoping to lighten the mood. It didn't work. He shrunk back subtly.

"Oh, don't worry about it, father. Vegeta was just being an ass—"

"Bulma!" the man exclaimed at the language his offspring was using. This was _definitely_ not the way he had raised her.

"—the other day, but if you just ignore him, like I do, everything will be perfectly fine," she finished, paying absolutely no heed to her parent's remark on her cussing. Trying to compose himself, Dr. Briefs tried to get his mind working on the topic again.

"Well, dear, that certainly doesn't sound like a very mature thing to do in such a situation. I'm sure that you'll both iron out your problems if you just talk about it," Ah, yes, her father—always the optimist, even in cases of lost causes, like this one.

"It's not a very mature thing to do but then again neither is Vegeta, father, so I fail to see the problem." Her guest gave a humorless laugh at her words. She raised a haughty eye brow at his reaction.

"So you finally decided to discard the hypocritical mask that you had for your old man, huh?" Vegeta approached her threateningly, making the hair on the back of the scientist's neck stand on end. He had a distinct feeling that he was responsible for these happenings and in the same time felt like he should better leave.

"Don't label my complex behaviour with shallow words like hypocrisy and masks when you don't understand a thing," she hissed back.

It had been a really long time since she felt so insulted. She was so pissed that she missed her father slipping out of the room as quietly as he could. She didn't fail to note Vegeta's arrogant laugh, though.

"Ah, yes, indeed; after all only _you_ understand everything there is and I'm such an imbecile I couldn't _possibly_ comprehend it even if you explained it to me."

"You know what? You're _so_ goddamn right! You _are_ stupid! You're a spineless jerk who can only feel sorry for himself!"

"What the hell did you just call me you little—?"

"_No!_" she hollered. Whether it was her tone, her volume, the expression on her usually so calm face was now wrenched into an enraged grimace or the index finger she was nearly shoving in his eyes, he didn't know. But, regardless, he obliged with her order. "I have heard _enough_ of your whining! The world _does not_ revolve around _you_!"

"Oh?" he mocked. "I guess it revolves around _you_ in that—?"

"Do you even know how to keep your damn mouth _shut_?"

She had hollered again. It was scary how the veins on her throat pumped into visibility when she did that. He swallowed inaudibly and decided to let her go talk for now.

"You're not the only one with problems! You're not the only one whose life is difficult! You're not the first, nor the last, who has lost his way! But you're the only one to wallow in self-pity and wail over your "misfortune" instead of finally putting that half-witted head of yours to some use! You taunt me that I know everything? I don't. But there is one thing I have known ever since I lost my parents seven years ago—"

He flinched at the thought. He decided not to do the math at the moment.

"Agonizing over the past _won't_ bring the dead back, and it won't undo anything other than you. If you wish to feel sorry for yourself, please, feel free to do so. But I, at least, don't plan to waste the rest of my life blaming anyone and everyone for things I could not prevent. I prefer to do the grown up thing - y_es_, I take pride in my maturity at my age because it's the _only_ thing that I have left - and _move on_, continue with my life, regardless of the pain. You can't redo the past but you _can_ do something about your future." She seemed to have calmed down a bit. He watched her with unwavering eyes, "Now tell me… did you really not know these things?"

He didn't answer. He merely scrutinized her sapphire eyes as they bore into his jet black orbs. She nodded curtly to herself.

"That's what I thought," was the last thing she said before she left him to his thoughts while she went to get her father to run an errand for her.

His gaze was pinned to the window on the far end of the premise, his unblinking dull eyes fixated at the passing clouds. He had just been reminded why he hated that girl with such a passion.

* * *

"Maybe…" Dr. Briefs began uncertainly, "Maybe you should try to apologize to him, Bulma…"

"I haven't said anything which I want to apologize for," she answered with an air of finality. The man fidgeted. It had been quite a long time since his teenage daughter had been so cold to him.

"Yes, I'm sure that you haven't but…"

"If you're sure then you should stop insisting, father, because I'm not going to," she informed him while screwing tightly the last nut on a large machine before capsulizing it.

"But, Bulma, I hate this tension that suddenly rises when you're both in the same room," her father kept complaining.

"Don't worry. It won't go on for long."

* * *

It was a Sunday just like any other—boring, uneventful, quiet. On a sunny Sunday just like any other, Bulma had decided to have lunch in the garden.

"Will you stop brooding behind me the whole day and just sit down to have some food? I'm in a too great of a mood to have you spoil it with your stupid little games," she informed the lawn as Vegeta got out from the shadow of the large compound to sit in front of her.

Despite her invitation, he refused to eat anything. So she just ate to her heart's content while he stared at her, as if trying to say something that just wouldn't come out.

The truth was that he didn't know how to act around her anymore. It still pissed him off to no end that she was acting so high and mighty with him, but then again, she _was_ the mistress of this home. He still hated her but knew that it wasn't just that. He had been thinking a lot the last few days, about questions to which he hadn't found any answers. Her words had touched a nerve. He let her talk her logic into him. And now he felt stupid and small. He abhorred those feelings.

"I'm…" he paused uncomfortably, "leaving." Her calculating cerulean eyes glued to him.

"And where are you going to go?" Her simple question made him narrow his eyes. He despised her current superiority over his jumbled mind.

"I don't know," he said flatly, his voice betraying his insult at her demeanor. She sighed and relaxed back in her chair. To his utter surprise she just smirked at his reply.

"Good," she said while she got up.

The Saiya-jin stared at her as if another head just sprouted from her shoulders, while she made her way across the wide neatly-mown lawn. The teenage scientist took out a small object from the breast pocket of her lab coat and threw it as far away as her arm would allow her to. When the smoke dissipated, in front of them stood a gargantuan globe-shaped space pod, just like the ones they had had on Vegeta-sei but much larger. He couldn't help a jaw drop.

"It's my final present for you." Bulma said as he approached her. "Think of it as a birthday present, if you wish."

The mere concept of "presents" was alien to Vegeta; "birthday presents" even more so. He had always got what he wanted when he wanted it. But he never before received what he needed when he most needed it. He stared at the short girl for a long while, wondering if he should say something.

When she finally started feeling uncomfortable, she broke the awkward silence.

"Well, get on already and go find your answers." She shooed him towards the staircase leading to the entrance of the large space capsule. "Come on, _go_!" she insisted when he barely moved.

He had been in the same deep thought while he climbed the stairs to the capsule. She felt an air of relief surround her when he finally reached the top and the automatic door slid up to welcome him on board. Before he stepped into the craft, however, he turned around and his discomforting onyx eyes caught hers in an odd lock. With a final doubt in mind, Vegeta decided that he wouldn't see her again in his life as it was, so…

"Thank you…" They felt odd on his tongue, those two little words that he had never spoken before. "For finding me."

While Bulma rewinded all their previous fights from the last month, he boarded the ship and soon, she had to pull away not to get burnt from the blast off.

"Silly man…" she murmured to the gust of wind that stroked her face as she watched the disappearing dot in the sky, and she allowed herself a tiny, sincere smile at the thought of the alien Prince.

* * *

_AN: Thank God for "Kare Kano" ("Kareshi Kanojo no Jijou") soundtrack and, most of all, for my dear friend AJCMetallica. If you hadn't read his story yet you should correct that mistake as soon as you can, because he knows how the job is done. I love you man—your writing inspires me. Thanks for being there! Anyway, this is the end of my prologue (quite the prologue there, huh?) and the real story starts from next chapter. Stay tuned to find out how they reunite!_

_Now, I insisted on writing this chapter now as a form of excuse for my slow updates and as an explanation _why_ exactly my updates are so slow. I have been having one of my "anti-creative" waves washing me away the last few weeks after my vacation. You have no idea how hard this chapter was to write. It seems all conversation but to me the proper words for the conversation are very important. _

_It was a weird chapter, all in all, and I had planned to call it many different things because I had thought of a million ways to continue after the previous one. I hope that you like the ending result because I most certainly tried my best, even in my passionless state. I don't know when the next time I update will be but I'll be crossing my fingers that you won't desert me just because of my sudden lack of creativity. I can only hope that it's not a permanent one either._

_Yours sincerely, Dark Hope Assassin._


	6. Tides of Time

_**Chapter 06:**_

"**_The Tides of Time"_**

* * *

He desperately fought for breath; for oxygen; for life.

He blinked heavily lashed lids to rid the stinging sensation roused by his blood oozing directly in them—but to no avail. The pain prevailed. The amount of air decreased by the second, and thus, his ripped muscles adamantly refused to cooperate with his still iron will. An orange glint caught his eye for a second, but he brushed it off quickly, focusing on the most important thing on the moment: surviving this mess of melting metal and burning oxygen.

He made another feeble attempt to maneuver what had once been a spacecraft towards something akin to water on the planet, but it was of no use. He lost all control of the ship long ago and was now plummeting through the atmosphere like a rock. His body was battered and broken, as he had, for the umpteenth time in his life, overdone things greatly. He couldn't fight his nearing death. He couldn't steer. Hell, he could barely breathe the air in the chamber anymore as all the machinery had gone awry.

With a humorless chuckle, he half-crawled, half-dragged himself across the tiled floor of the ship to the fallen ball of orange solid glass. A solitary red star resided, tacitly, uncaring of all the mayhem that went on around it because _it_ would most definitely survive the fall… whereas _he_ most certainly wouldn't.

He snatched at the sphere before it rolled out of range due to the ship's violent rocking from to and fro. He brought it in front of his eyes and released yet another demented cackle. How much he had given to achieve this moment of truth; how much he had dreamt it would come. And now that it did, he had no time to gloat about his own mind-boggling power, nor about how much he had grown in the past years since his pride had been so ruthlessly trampled over by those Ginyu sissies. Oh, how he _craved_ revenge. He would give his soul to see them writhe beneath his boot before he disposed of them.

It was all in vain now. All of his sacrifices, all of his pains and all of his dreams amounted only enough to have him splattered spitefully on the ground of some nameless planet he couldn't care less about. He had laughed at the irony of it all—the creeping sense of déjà vu.

For the first time in so many years, he let himself remember her. The girl who had given him this ship; the girl who had given him a way to go; the girl that had given him life and freedom to do as he pleased with it, even if it removed her from the picture.

He remembered how she'd turn almost the same color as the star inside the glass orb when he angered her. How when he lashed verbally at her with a horrendous insult, she was there to lash right back at him with an equally venomous remark. He remembered how she had been the first and only one to believe in him when he didn't even believe in himself. She was the first to dare trust him in his entire life. He hated her for it – for her innocence, for her naivety and for her wit.

"I wish we could meet again," he mumbled in his state of delirium to no one in particular as he held the ball on his eye level. "But, I guess there is no force on this world or any other that can grant my wish, is there…"

_Great_, now he was talking to a crystal ball. He shook his head in dejection. _Princes did not talk to crystal balls_, he chastised.

Yet, his internal berating halted in mid-thought as the spherical object in his gloved hand started to glow with a peculiar yellow light. The soft radiance faded slowly then, extinguishing like a candle. Peering at it more closely, attempting to will it again, the man was caught off guard by the sudden impact of his craft with the water below.

The ship gave a very violent lurch upon colliding with the surface and began to sink. The heavily wounded man spared the odd orb only a meaningful glance before he summoned all of his remaining power to scramble out of the vehicle and take up this second chance offered to him by this luck.

It seemed like eternity had passed when the youthful male's torn-gloved hand finally shot out of the water as he grabbed for solid ground. He hauled himself out with an agonizing groan.

His clothes were drenched; he could barely see or breathe but he was still alive.

He watched impassively, drawing in quick short breaths, as his ship, his sole companion on his countless journeys across the galaxy, sunk at a discomforting rate into the murky waters.

He didn't have enough time to gather his wits before he felt, even with his wary senses that someone was approaching from behind.

"Who the hell are you and what do you think you're doing on His Majesty's grounds?" A tall burly man demanded from the apprehensive prince. The injured male turned to glare back at him, distrust clearly written on his sharp facial features.

The situation escalated long before the so-called "majesty" arrived to see what was happening. Thankfully for the guard, his master had been taking a short stroll around the neighborhood when he heard them fighting, because if he hadn't arrived, the aloof guard would have met his demise then and there.

"What's this commotion about?" asked the man, hovering towards them in a next-generation wheel chair.

Upon his arrival, the alien shrunk back, showing his perfectly straight lined teeth and pulled the orange orb, his sole possession, closer to him. He looked as if death itself had chewed on him and spat him out, blood oozing from numerous wounds on his body as well as the guard's blood on his ragged clothes and once-white gloves.

The newly-arrived raised an impressed eyebrow at the shrewd show of strength, and he couldn't help his curiosity for the unbridled malign this otherworldly young warrior exhibited. Few of his subjects ever dared to be as audacious, knowing what he was capable of and truth be told, the boy was a gulp of fresh air among all those idiots anyway. His eyes held a brilliance behind the open radiation of hatred and disgust. His moves were urgent, yet there was a crude last-minute tactic to them.

A smirk tugged the dark lips. He sensed great potential in this adolescent man, and his senses never led him astray. Maybe he could arrange something so the boy stuck around long enough to become of use to him.

* * *

The slim figure of a female was crouching in front of a huge pile of machinery. Or at least that how it looked to a bystander. What stood before her was, or more precisely was going to be, one of the fastest jets in the world. Possibly _the_ fastest, considering that she was the designer and never did anything half-heartedly. 

With an exultant wrench on the last nut, she rose to her full height which was unremarkable at its best and marveled at a job well done. She gave her "work of art", as she liked to call it, a long, and much too doting, glance before she reached to start the piece of mechanical genius.

To her utter horror, it gave a mournful choke before it started up, but she didn't spare it much thought. She wasn't alarmed at the loud noises while at work—it was only normal. The thing would be able to reach a hundred kilometers per hour in three seconds at most, so it was only natural that it wouldn't be too subtle about its own greatness—just like people were. It was nothing a couple of well-placed gadgets couldn't fix. Again, just like it was with people.

There was a knock at her door, but in the racket that her soon-to-be jet made, it was drowned out. After a while, her unfortunate guest realized that knocking would get him nowhere, so he attempted to yell over the vibration to grasp her attention.

"Bulma, Bulma!" He yelled repeatedly but it never reached her.

The dark haired man's thick eye brows creased in thought. What could she _possibly_ be doing at this time of day that made her so hard to find?

"Bulma, come on! You promised we'd go out today and you're not ditching me at the last minute!" His unsettling screams would have been quite unsettling if the woman had neighbors which she, thankfully, did not. Her 'date' continued banging on the door insistently. "Bulma, are you listening? Bulma!"

It is peculiar, really, human hearing is. It's amazing how a person can ignore any form of irritant sound in one moment, and in the next discover how their subconsciousness can catch onto something that spikes one's interest.

The female's aquamarine head shot around to an additional noise that seemed out of place. After a moment, she shut off her machine to confirm her guess. Fine brows narrowed over her cerulean irises, and she pinned them to a calendar on the wall. There, in bold black marker was a single world over the current date which, to her dismay, dispelled any doubt to the visitor's identity.

"Oh," the young woman groaned outwardly. Against her better judgment, she rolled her eyes at the black lettered 'date' glaring at her from the wall. Did she absolutely _have_ to answer the door? She didn't feel like facing _him_ right then.

She shook herself of the bad thoughts to brighten up as the brightest idea of the day popped into her sharp mind. Looking around the room, her eyes landed on the blueprint of her previous, second-fastest in the world, hover car.

The man at the door was rightfully becoming impatient when he noticed a shadow looming above him. He turned crestfallen toward it only see Bulma riding the car he had ridden only once before.

"Bulma baby, what's going on?" He asked helplessly in what she categorized as a whine, "Where are you going?" he then shot at her with much more solidity. "Weren't we supposed to go out today?"

"We are—just not together," she replied in good humor. With her luck though, it was seemingly lost on the guy, who could neither take a hint nor bite back.

"Bulma, _please_, come down so we can talk," he begged her with that pitifully scarred expression of his. Was this right – was a man _supposed_ to beg? It didn't feel right. So the young woman just shook her head and turned the car around.

"Sorry, Yamcha, I can't. I need to run a few quick errands in the city, so it will have to wait." She said it quickly, hoping he'd catch on and just get the hell away from her for the day. But instead, he continued pestering her.

"When will you be back then?"

"I don't know," she answered sincerely and added inwardly, _the later and farther from you, the better._

"I'll wait for you right here then, until you get back," he said and looked absolutely convinced of his words as he sat on her veranda, making her glare discreetly at him. She opened her mouth to say something but decided against it in the last second, deeming him useless to waste her witty responds on, since he never appreciated or reciprocated them anyway.

"Sure, Yamcha, whatever," she shrugged him off and blasted off full-speed toward her second-favorite person in the whole wide world.

Little either of them knew that she wouldn't be back.

Within minutes, she arrived in front of a shabby workshop that had a rusty sign hanging loosely on one set of hinges. Bulma jumped out of her car and capsulated it into a handy little piece no larger than her finger and made for the door.

"I hope you brought that jet you want me to put mufflers on because otherwise your excuse to be here would be naught," the knowing sing-song voice of her best friend carried to her while she approached the back of the store. Despite herself, Bulma couldn't help looking slightly bemused.

"How could you be sure it was me? What if it had been someone else?"

"Well, I would have made a mistake then," said the raven haired technician smartly as she rose from beneath a hover car she was currently working on. "But it _is_ you, as it always is when it's a day for a date with Yamcha, and it's about the hour he usually drops by at your place. Seriously, I'm starting to wonder what's so great about you that he still hasn't quit trying to win over your affections," the brunette said jokingly, rubbing her greased gloved hands in a rag on a working table nearby before discarding the hand-wear.

"I wonder too because I try _so_ hard to get rid of him all the time!" The heiress admitted shamelessly, making her friend stare mock-incredulously at her.

"Bulma, you know you can't keep avoiding him forever!"

"Yeah maybe," the other girl realized with a scowl as she studied some of the more expensive parts around the working table. "But I can damn well try!" She added with a mischievous glint in her eye.

Her motherly best friend shook her raven haired head at her, "Why do you try so hard to run away from him, Bulma? He's a great person if you just get to know him."

"If he's so damn wonderful, why don't _you_ marry him, ChiChi?" She snapped touchily.

"Don't misinterpret my words in your fury, Bulma, and don't jump down my throat just because you got up on the wrong side of the bed." ChiChi waddled a chastising index finger disapprovingly at her buddy. Then, she said in a much softer tone, "You know all I want for you is to be happy."

"If you want me so badly to be happy, you wouldn't be forcing me to tie the knot with _Yamcha_, of all people!" Bulma countered heatedly. ChiChi suddenly felt glad the dark haired man wasn't in the vicinity to hear what his beloved girlfriend said about him. Bulma calmed a bit, feeling compelled to elaborate so she wouldn't come out to be the bad guy in their little anti-fairy tale, "I mean, he's not _for _me, ChiChi, can't you see that?" A sense of desperation tinted her voice, "He doesn't answer back to me, he doesn't snap at me, he lets me bite his head off and doesn't say a word in his defense! He can't keep up with me!"

"Well, Bulma, few _can_," her closest friend reminded her with a sly cock of her fine eye brow.

"Well, ChiChi," she stressed with a mocking tone, "I'd prefer my husband to be one of those few people because, while it is greatly ego-inflating to have a spineless moron," she ignored the brunette's protests how she referred to her dearest fiancé, "who does however I bid him to whenever I wish to, I'd prefer to have an equally ardent counterpart with whom I'd be able to use my quick wit in arguments and have intelligent conversations with that last more than five seconds at most."

The interlocutor was starting to sense the direction this was going to and she didn't like it, not at all actually.

"You have to wake up from your little dream, Bulma," Chichi began softly in a way that just infuriated her friend more than if the Ox daughter had been shrieking like a banshee.

"And what do I have to wake up to, ChiChi? What is it that you think I have to wake up to? I need to face the fact that I can do no better than _Yamcha_?" The exotically hair colored girl huffed condescendingly. "I'd certainly like to believe otherwise."

Her question cut in more than one way. In the relatively short time ChiChi had known the man in question, she had grown quite fond of him, which was why hearing her best friend belittle him so in his absence made her truly wonder what was so great about the Capsule Corporation inheritress that still had Yamcha clinging so desperately to her. It wasn't as if she was jealous—definitely not, although she had toyed with the thought of trying to win Yamcha, the only eligible bachelor around her age around the place, for herself. She had quickly discarded the thought though because he'd never learn to like her back while he still had his hopes for Bulma.

It was unfair, really… that her friend always got the best and rarely appreciated it.

"No, Bulma—you have to wake up from your little fantasy because he isn't coming back. Ever," she emphasized her point. Her buddy had been about to retort wittily with one of her well-rounded responses when she suddenly balked.

"Huh?" The swift change of subject was so unforeseen that the heiress' response was equally as lame which only made her angry with herself and she felt obliged to add on a much less brain-dead note, "Who isn't?"

"That alien guy you tended to some decade ago." At this, Bulma slapped a dejected hand to her forehead. So _this_ was what ChiChi thought the argument was about?

"I _know_ he isn't ChiChi—I was the one who sent him on his merry way, remember?"

"Well, obviously, you still haven't got over your childish crush on him and it's high time you did because he isn't coming back," the brunette spelled out the last part for her as if she was retarded.

"I did _not_ have a crush on him, ChiChi—I certainly know better than that! Besides, I don't even remember his name anymore," the young woman defended herself vehemently. The latter of her statements was a lie though. She still knew his name perfectly well but it was a fact she hadn't thought of him in, what, five years? Why did ChiChi have to suddenly bring him up?

"Then _why_ haven't you had a stable relationship with anyone at the age of twenty-five?" ChiChi continued to beat down on her mercilessly.

"First of all, I'm twenty-four," The pair of onyx orbs rolled in annoyance, "and second of all, before he came, I was too young to date and after he was gone, I just didn't find anyone right for me! Is that so damn hard to believe?"

"Stop living in the past, Bulma!"

"I'm _not_ living in the past, ChiChi!" Their fight had risen to new volumes and anyone who cared to pass by the workshop outside could clearly hear their argument. "If I was, I would have gone after him a long time ago, because, unlike you, I have the guts to. That's right, ChiChi, I see the way you look at his scarred face when you think no one sees you. Well, I meant it when I said that you can have him because _he isn't mine_, alright?" Her expressive sapphire eyes were on the verge of popping out of their sockets. "I never had a crush on the alien, but I never managed to get past friendship with Yamcha either."

There was a pause before her voice softened considerably, "Please understand, ChiChi—I know you wish me only the best but don't try to convince me into doing something I'll regret to my dying day."

The sharp obsidian eyes lost their edginess at the girl's last words.

"Oh, Bulma," ChiChi cooed as she hugged her friend apologetically, "I never knew you felt so strongly about this. I thought you two were happy together, and I presumed you were just being knuckleheaded. I don't know." They both shared a demure laugh as they parted.

"We _are _happy together, but it's just that we want completely different things from our relationship." Bulma finally sat down on the nearest bench, her counterpart taking a seat next to her. "I don't want to lose his friendship because he's really great help while my father's gone, but I don't want to tie myself to him either, you know. I'm just… not sure… what to…" Her voice began to trail off in mid-sentence as she stared out the window. She didn't even manage to finish her thought as her eyes widened noticeably.

"You're not sure what to do anymore?" Her closest buddy finished helpfully for her with a suggestive raise of her brows, but the other woman wasn't even paying attention—her cerulean eyes were pinned adamantly to the window.

"ChiChi? Did your father launch any satellites lately?" She changed the subject so suddenly that her interlocutor was baffled for a whole second before her mind started working again.

"No, why do you ask?"

Bulma's fine brows narrowed decisively, and she rose to her feet quickly, grabbing ChiChi's hand in the process.

"Then we need to leave right away. Come on!"

She ushered the brunette out the back door to a place with enough space where they'd be able to get into the hover car capsule in Bulma's breast pocket. The aquamarine haired woman just hoped that they wouldn't be too late when they arrived…

* * *

The broad-shouldered man paced the length of the control room anxiously. He was losing his influence on 'His Excellency' to that ape-man, and the thought displeased him to no end. He left the docks without his captain in his quest for recognition, and he knew perfectly well that if he failed _now_, he was done for. 

"_Is the planet inhabited?"_ he inquired impatiently with the croaky voice of his alien mother tongue.

"_It is, sir,"_ a crew member informed tersely.

"_Is the atmosphere breathable?"_ he continued the short interrogation with growing apprehension.

"_Affirmative, sir. We are landing and should be free to roam the planet soon." _A feral grin spread on the blue-greenish lips as the man tucked a stray strand of emerald hair behind his ear.

"_Excellent,"_ he breathed out contentedly. He'd purge this petty blue little planet and retrieve his prize in no time. It seemed that this was his lucky day. What could possibly get in his way now?

Well, he'd learn soon enough what could.

* * *

"Where are we going and just what the _hell_ are you doing, Bulma?" ChiChi inquired in that high-pitched tone that her friend always despised. 

They were riding the hover car on autopilot in a direction the raven head was sure there was absolutely nothing remarkable and definitely not intriguing enough to leave for on such a short notice. Bulma dragged her out of the workshop in the middle of the working day, without even giving her a chance to lock up or tell her father she was heading out. What was worse, she hadn't even offered her a decent explanation yet, and instead, only muttered incoherently about alien invasion and space ships, which ChiChi found utterly loony. What was going on with the woman today?

"I'm pinpointing the location where they'll land so we can be there before them." She informed briefly, as if it explained trivial truths about the Universe.

"Where _what_ will land? Who are _they_? Bulma, are you sure you're not out of your goddamn—Jesus Christ!" ChiChi yelled in mid-rant and gripped the door as her friend took a very sharp turn in order to avoid crashing into the overly huge spacecraft that passed overheard like a comet readying itself for impact.

"What the hell is _that_?" ChiChi pointed with a shaking finger.

Bulma shook her head knowingly. ChiChi always over-dramatized everything, so she wasn't the least bit surprised by her current behavior. Still, she needed her friend to pull herself together so they could pull this stunt off successfully.

"Why are you nearing it?" The raven haired woman asked with rising alarm.

"We need to stop them before they have the chance to get off their crappy ship."

"I think you've hit your head on something hard and somehow started to believe that we can actually _do_ something to prevent potentially dangerous aliens from purging our planet. Hello, Earth to Bulma? We're _not_ superheroes! We're just common, powerless women, and the best course for action for people like us is to _run and hide_!" She looked on the verge of a breakdown.

"Do you remember what happened when we last 'ran and hid', ChiChi? Huh, do you? What did _that_ accomplish? Sure, we're alive, but just because we had someone to save our asses! Miracles happen but not every day! You can't always hope for someone else to save you, ChiChi! If you think your life is worth the hassle, you have to fight for it! And, while we may be physically weaker than them, I like to believe that we're bright enough to outsmart a bunch of 'powerful' aliens."

It took ChiChi exactly the five seconds, as they landed their transport right next to the extraterrestrial craft, to realize that she let panic command her. She was the more decisive and militant of the two of them and now she had Bulma remind her of those atrocious monsters back in the day that had deprived her of her loving mother. Eyes narrowed dangerously, and she was the first to jump out of the hover car before its re-capsulation.

"What do I have to do?" She whispered eagerly as they neared the mountain of alien metal.

"Here, take this," Bulma shoved what could easily be mistaken for a common laptop in her hands, "and look for a weak point in its structure where we can enter from."

"We're _entering_ it?" ChiChi thought she heard wrong, but her friend was already looking for rivets holding the machine together. All ships like this one needed at least several supports during their creation and often those supports were the spots from which cables were plugged in for its programming as well. She found it in no time and inserted the plug of her computer there with little trouble.

"Are you insane? We'll die sooner than you can say 'Don't shoot!' I refuse to go in! Why would we want to go in?" Chichi ranted on and on while retrieving a map of the ship directly from its main computer.

"Well, if we just block their way, they'll keep trying until they succeed, but if we go in and tell them how things stand, they'll give up. Now shut up and work, ChiChi," her friend reminded her hurriedly, decapsulating an odd-looking devise.

"And just how _do_ things stand, Bulma? What will we say once we're inside? 'Hello, mister space alien, sir. I'm really sorry but you can't park here and would you be so kind as to leave our planet alone because we have nothing to offer you as someone already went ahead of you and stripped us of our last ounce of pride and we're still pitifully rehabilitating from the raid. Please leave, convinced by our words, because we have no other means of making you because we are weak human women. Pretty please?' Come on, Bulma, who are you kidding?"

"Less talking, more working," the lighter haired female reminded her "We'll think what we'll do once this part is completed successfully."

"I'm not particularly fond of improvising while my life's at stake!" She had been about to rebuke her fellow saboteur when the map finally downloaded to her computer. "Whoa, would you look at _that_ piece of brilliance?" In no time, her friend had scrambled next to her after rendering all the exits of the ship useless with her jammer, as she dubbed it.

"I thought you were looking for the weak points of this thing, ChiChi—not marveling its design!"

"I did find its weakest spot, for your information, and it's right over there." Her delicate finger pointed it out. "Now I'm making sure they have no means of knowing what's going on around them and that we're sneaking onto their ship."

"Great, you do that while I blow a hole in this monster where we can climb in."

"Sure, sure, I'll jam their software while you blow a—while you _what_?" The information finally registered and Chichi shot her friend an incredulous glare. "Have you finally _snapped_ completely, woman? Surely they'll _feel_ us blasting a damn _hole_ in their craft!"

"Well, we have to get on _somehow_ and parading through the main entrance isn't the brightest idea, wouldn't you agree?" Bulma hissed while taking out her power tools from a decapsulated box.

"This whole thing is a bad idea from its very start…" ChiChi muttered disdainfully as she closed off all connections that the aliens inside might have had with their kin or superiors.

"So is the notion of extraterrestrials landing on our planet," Bulma told her.

"Are you _done_ yet?" The brunette huffed moodily, "I want to get this over with because I have to finish that hover car by the end of the afternoon."

Despite ChiChi's foul demeanor, her tacit optimism didn't pass unnoticed by her best friend. Her words were enough to pour strength and confidence back into Bulma just as her earlier severe criticism had been enough to dampen her hopes of success. And suddenly, the Capsule heiress was reminded why ChiChi was her best friend and why their teamwork was so impeccable.

* * *

The co-captain of the ship readied himself to set foot on the planet and was currently standing right in front of the exit. However, when he pressed the button for the said exit staircase to appear, nothing happened. He stood there for a second or two before he pressed it again, but nothing resulted from his action. He growled out a string of colorful obscenities that made most of the crew behind him fidget about. 

"_What is the meaning of this? Why isn't the accursed door opening?"_ the man of high stature demanded over the transmitters placed all over the control room.

"_We fear that we have a general malfunction with all of the exits, sir, and we are currently working on it,"_ briefed him a nasal voice from the speakers.

"_Stop working on it and do it already!"_ he roared and gave the solid metal a swift kick. But it was to no avail—it didn't budge.

"_Someone is tampering with the systems, lieutenant!"_ The vice captain heard from the control room.

"_The commander on channel one, sire!"_ Another alarmed voice announced louder this time. The leader growled his displeasure. That was _just_ what he needed—the pompous bastard getting to know of the mess that their trip was turning into in his absence.

"_Put him through, Zaira,"_ the man said disdainfully rubbing the bridge of his fine nose, sensing a headache coming on.

"_Zarbon!"_ The unmistakable powerful baritone of the crew's captain boomed in the hollow hallway. _"What the fuck are you doing with my ship? Who gave you permission to leave without me?"_

"_I'm sorry to say that in our haste to do our Lord's bidding we forgot to check if our captain was on board, your highness."_ His voice was dripping with sarcasm, which wasn't lost on the man on the other end of the line.

"_You better buckle up for the beating I'm going to give you, you sleazy bastard, because I don't plan on—"_ But the man called Zarbon never got to know what his superior was planning to do because the line went dead all of a sudden. His golden irises darted around calculatingly.

"_Zaira, what happened?"_ the lieutenant demanded in a powerful tone but no one answered his inquiry. _"Zaira, do you read me?"_ Obviously not. With another guttural growl, the leader of the group turned on his heel toward the control room to have a word with his subordinates.

* * *

"_What the hell is going on here?"_ Thundered the enraged commanding officer once he entered his control room again. He was about to blast a few heads clean off their shoulders when he noticed some of the crew was scuffling in the centre of the room. He thought he saw a flash of aquamarine blue in there as well, but chose to shrug it off. 

"_We found the rats, sir!"_ one of the combatants announced proudly, pulling someone by their hair. This time there was no mistake—it was blue. _"These two females were sniffing around the ship!"_ And with that he threw the said earthling women in Zarbon's feet.

The vice commander kneeled in front of the pair of newcomers and eyed them warily. They looked scared but made no sound to acknowledge it. Instead, they glared directly into his serpentine eyes. To their horror, he smirked at their show of defiance.

"_How are we doing with those controls, Zaira?"_

"_We can't unblock them, sir—it's an intricate alien technology with a code we can't seem to crack."_

"_You mean to say that a pair of weaklings have outsmarted a super computer, is that what you're saying, you imbecile?" _Zarbon roared in the man's face.

"_I'm dreadfully sorry, sir, but there's nothing we can do without our computer!"_

The burly man then turned around to glare at the women, who had risen to their feet during the little outburst. He walked over to them, his cape flapping violently in his wake. He made a grab for the exotic one and lifted her up by the collar of her shirt.

"_You did this, didn't you? Fix it now before I break your scrawny neck!"_ he yelled, but she didn't even blink at his threat.

"_We believe they don't understand a word we're saying, my lord,"_ one of his pilots informed him.

"_And I'd advise you to reconsider your manhandling her, sire, as she looks disconcertingly a lot like the captain."_

"_The resemblance is uncanny, save for the missing appendage."_ Another pointed to her waist.

"Bulma," ChiChi whispered from next to the technical genius. "Maybe _now_ would be a good time to start looking for a common language!"

"_Oh, I'll handle her well. I'll handle her really well for costing me a decisive mission!"_ the man replied venomously, throwing Bulma to the ground in his fury. As he got ready to kick her in the ribs and possibly break them, he held back when he noticed the necklace that dangled out from beneath her shirt. The alien's eyes widened as he studied the object, barely believing what he saw, before the tiny female collected her treasure back beneath her clothing. His mood swung in a completely different direction and his annoying high-pitched laughter rang in the dead of the silence of the room. _"What would you know? She was of some use after all! Congratulations, squad—we didn't even have to look for what is ours – it came to us by its own free will."_

ChiChi and Bulma didn't like how these aliens were crowding in on them so it was up to Bulma's quick wit to get them out of the situation.

She just hoped that she had read the buffoon leader's body language properly because otherwise, she and ChiChi were as good as dead… or worse.

* * *

The captain paced the length of the dock impatiently like a caged beast, rage clearly written on his youthful features. To say that he was exasperated with the whole situation would be a great understatement. 

Not only did his brain-dead subordinate envy him for something he didn't even want to have, but he dared to pull such a cheap trick as high jacking his ship while he was discussing business with their Lord. He couldn't believe the nerve of the bastard! As if that wasn't enough, the imbecile had to cut his rant short when he was getting to the good part of what he was going to do to him once the ship was returned! Oh, no, rage definitely couldn't even _begin_ to cover the feelings that were bubbling raw inside his veins.

"_Sire, your ship has arrived,"_ a slave informed him and, upon hearing the news, the infuriated captain started taking quick long strides towards his own damn craft!

"_Zarbon, you piece of space trash! Wait until I get my hands on you, you dirty little hypocritical—" _

"_Your threats are empty words, you over-confident self-important monkey, because our mission was a complete success."_ He turned around and made a grab for something that tried to struggle free of him. "Behold! The four star!"

Zarbon gripped at the scrawny little woman's shoulder roughly and, against her rather violent protests, shoved his huge hand under her bosom. His superior was about to turn around disgusted when he noticed the object that he retrieved from there—a familiar-looking orange orb that reflected the light of the premise with four red stars inside it.

"_Why did you bring two aliens to the base?"_ He changed the subject, needing a reason to continue pouring his anger out on the misfortunate subordinate.

"_They caused us quite some trouble and we thought His Excellency would want to deal with them himself," _Zarbon explained with artistically feigned calm. _"Besides, Zaira here pointed out quite deftly that they looked very much like yourself, you highness,"_ he hissed with obvious ill-will but his words made his captain take notice of the two human women for the first time since his crew's arrival.

Bulma grumbled and struggled against the painful grip of the wretched alien man and couldn't help but wonder which case was worse—the fact that she had tried to be a hero and had dragged her best friend into a mess from which they were unlikely to get out alive; or that she had been kidnapped by monsters from a different world in her quest for peace for her home planet; or that she had been treated like a lowly slave, beaten and let to starve; or that she hadn't had the chance to say a final goodbye to her loved ones back on Earth and would likely die a miserable death at the hands of people who had killed for less than what she had done to them.

The aquamarine haired genius sighed in relief when the disgusting creature let go of her, but froze when she noticed the presence of another man for the first time since their landing. When she lifted her head to look at him and give him a piece of her mind, regardless that he wouldn't understand her in the first place, her blood ran cold in her veins.

She was about to witness how much the tides of time could change a single individual for the span of mere ten years.

* * *

_It may seem a bit slow since I'm setting up the scene here, the new characters and everything. Review if it suits your fancy anyway.  
_


	7. Cruel Intentions

_**Chapter 07:**_

"**_Cruel Intentions"_**

* * *

_The young woman expelled a relaxing sigh into the fresh spring air as she walked into broad daylight for the first time in a week. She bent her neck in a few choice directions, her expert fingers working out a few kinks in it and a tiny groan of relief betraying her throat as she felt her whole being ease somewhat thanks to the soothing rays and the still crispy air outside. _

_She had been working like a maniac for days, knowing that her father needed her project completed before he was back, which was today. And, never having disappointed the doting adoptive parent thus far and not planning on starting then, the aquamarine haired adolescent had rolled up her sleeves—literally—and met the deadline, if just barely. _

_Regardless, she was quite pleased with herself. She had done a better job at it than she had credited herself for being able to. It was technology that she wasn't well acquainted with but she did splendid with some before-hand research._

_Shaking her much too wise for her years head, she rid herself of thoughts of work and banned them from further intrusion for the day. She had deserved a few hours of peace, after all, she decided. Stretching her arms above her head as well as her entire body until she was on her toes, she felt much more refreshed. She took in a deep breath which she held in for a second longer than necessary to ease her nerves as well. There was nothing better than spring in the air!_

_Fishing in her lab coat for a band, she tied her relatively short hair in a messy high ponytail that made her feel much more aware of her surroundings by its applied pressure on her scalp. With a squeal that she would have dubbed infantile and unsuitable for a scientist of her status had she had proper sleep in the last few days, she threw herself in the comfort for a cushioned chair, sinking blissfully in the squishy surface of the said cushions. _

_She was completely unaware how much time had passed since she had gone out or what possessed her to open her brilliant cerulean eyes at the time she did or even why it was that she had chosen to look in the general direction that she had. But the decision—unbeknownst to her ignorant self at that point in time—would change her life forever as her ever observant orbs caught sight of an odd glimmer, unnatural for her well-kept garden that she tended lovingly to every day._

_As a person usually driven solely by curiosity, the youth ignored the protest of her still aching limbs and back as she sat up, sharp eyes pinned at the light glow coming from the far end of her garden. Maybe she should have neglected it, never looked at it again and saved herself the trouble but she couldn't turn her gaze away—it was beckoning to her, in some mysterious way. Her feet weren't her own as she walked towards it and her mind was completely—and very uncharacteristically so—blank while she kneeled in the dew-moist grass in front of the most fetching orange orb on the planet._

_She scooped it up tentatively with her creamy-white skinned hands and held it up for inspection. The four crimson stars inside it reflected weakly the bright light of the sun and—without realizing it—she was immediately enamored with the vision of perfection before her as if it was the most beautiful and valuable gem in the entire Universe._

_Little she knew that it was _so much more_ than that…_

* * *

Bulma's breath hitched in her throat and she instantly knew that the telltale black spots wouldn't be much later now. After all, she was already delusional, what with seeing people that aren't there—couldn't _possibly_ be there. She had never thought herself to be one of those over-sensitive girly ones prone to losing consciousness. As a matter of fact, she had never before _really_ fainted but she had heard enough about others' experiences in the area to know the symptoms.

And of _all_ the people she knew, she had to see _him_ standing there, looking awe-struck, when she was delirious.

However, to her utter dismay, there were no black dots blurring her vision, there was no ringing in her ears except the sudden silence that had befallen the large group of aliens around her and ChiChi, no falling curtain and no numbing darkness. Instead, she felt painfully aware of her surroundings as the gravity of the situation tried futilely again and again to sink home with her.

It wasn't until his onyx eyes turned away from hers, until he turned his broadened back on her that it finally dawned on her. It was really happening. It wasn't a nightmare and she had never been faint-hearted in her life so there was no reason to believe that she would start being then. He was there and he had dismissed her, not speaking to her as if she were below him, not recognizing what she had selflessly done for him, without even asking anything in return, all those years back. He had discredited her before she even had the chance to breathe a word to him. He had abandoned her to fend for herself in a cluster of deadly powerful aliens that could kill her instantly if it so suited their fancy.

Angry tears sprung to her eyes as she felt more rage than ever before in her short life, but Bulma refused to shed them. He didn't deserve them. She had given him roof to sleep under, food to fill his stomach, saved his pitiful life and—God forbid!—even gave him direction when he was lost. She had never even thought to ask for anything in return as doing so would be going against everything that she stood for. Yet there she was, feeling wretchedly bitter by his rejection, by the fact that everything that she had done for him had amounted to not even a brief look of recognition crossing his pointy facial features.

Before she had time to ponder over it anymore though, the aquamarine haired earthling was hauled toward an unwelcoming dark corridor that led to God-knew-where. She was half-aware of ChiChi's heated refusal to oblige with the extraterrestrials' wishes and felt a swell of pride rise in her chest. She had always known her raven haired friend to be hotheaded and opinionated but hadn't been sure how she would react to this new predicament. It wasn't every day that you were kidnapped by vicious-looking space aliens on their damned ship, and manhandled by the aforementioned creatures, you have to admit. Having some support in her cause, however, made Bulma feel much more self-confident than she would should she have been alone.

A calloused blue-greenish hand reached for the pendant on her neck and the anything but gentle pull it applied on the chain holding the orange orb snapped Bulma out of her frantic thoughts. Snarling in a rather unladylike manner, she tried to shove an elbow in his side to get him a safe distance away from her necklace but it was to no avail. The accursed bastard's ugly fingers were still grasping the ball with no intention of letting go in the near future but she would have none of it.

Before any of the crew members had the chance to realize what had happened, their vice-captain howled in pain like a wounded wild animal. Immediately, they began fussing around him, making the emerald haired warrior growl out something in his alien tongue at them and shove them back to their business while he nursed his hand on which the earthling bitch had sunken her pretty little teeth.

He hissed something unintelligible in her ear, pulling her head back by her hair. The action sent painful sensations down her entire spine and she almost shivered in disgust but deprived the sleazy rascal from knowing that.

The guy seemed to recuperate quickly from his tantrum though, as his hand released her marine tresses soon and a sly and unsettlingly smug grin spread on his features. Bulma didn't even want to begin to imagine what brought on such a reaction in him but could bring herself to care for now as relief washed over her in calming waves while she trudged onward, orange orb still dangling on her neck.

In the ruckus she hadn't noticed a pair of onyx eyes scrutinizing her over a well-built shoulder throughout the entire episode.

* * *

Somewhere along the way, they had spread up in two groups but Bulma couldn't have cared less about what that ingrate and his league of goons were up to as she was, once again for that day, painfully acquainted with an unfamiliar metal floor. She heard ChiChi's hiss next to her as they both scrambled up into more dignified positions.

"_You are to stay here until Lord Freeza measures your worth!_" A guard barked out something they couldn't understand before the door slid shut and—almost angrily—beeped locked.

There wasn't much a feeble earth woman could do when her arms are cuffed in a pair of the most effective specimens of restraints in the entire Universe. There wasn't much to see with her handicapped sight in a room in the open cosmos with no light inside. And ChiChi Ox wasn't one of those girls who could hold their mouths when they were rendered completely helpless by a bunch of malevolent aliens.

"I'm not going to tell you that I _told_ you this would happen, even though I remember clearly that I _did_ and I was absolutely _right_," the brunette's snippy remark reached her friend's ears soon after silence had settled in the premise. The renowned scientist rolled her cerulean eyes although she was well aware that the other girl couldn't actually see her doing it.

"Please spare me your nagging, ChiChi—it's not the time," said Bulma in an exasperated tone while she pushed herself to her buckling feet. There was a sharp intake of breath from somewhere in the centre of the room which the shuffling around in the dark heiress had abandoned moments ago.

"Well, if it's not the time for me to nag at you—_­_which I have to point out is _not_ what I am doing—then what _is_ it time for, Bulma?" She could feel her buddy's indignation in her inquiry but had no compassion or guilt to spare her as the wheels of her mind were turning rapidly.

The lack of lighting didn't really air the adolescent genius in her blind search for the door from which they had been thrown into the room but she was sure she was closing in on it when the crystal orb on her neck started to glow, its light increasing and diminishing in strength on even intervals. She stared transfixed at it for a minute, as did her still sitting friend.

"Just what are you doing, Bulma Briefs?" came the next question which the addressed decided was polite not to ignore this time. After all, it was bad enough that their impending doom was creeping closer and closer towards them. The least they could do was remain civil to each other and figure something out together.

"I'm looking for the door," she informed tersely, going back to work with a little difficulty in tearing her gaze from the alluring glowing of the ball.

"I meant what you did to that odd crystal to make it do that." The other girl asked in a miffed tone.

"Oh," muttered Bulma, temporarily halting her groping the wall with her chained hands for the panel she had seen before all light had been extinguished. "I don't know; I'm not sure I did anything at all. But I have a feeling that it's…" She paused, looking for a fitting word. "Calling to something," she finished lamely. The girl could almost feel her dark haired friend raising an eyebrow at her statement.

"Calling to something?" echoed ChiChi dully. "I'm afraid to say, friend, that I have just established that you are completely demented. I am sorry for your loss of brilliant brain cells, Bulma, I really am. You had the potential to become great in so many ways." Bulma cringed at her companion's words. It should be against the law to sound so serious when saying such ludicrous things.

"Now is not the time, ChiChi," the scientist seethed through her gritted teeth. She was about to continue her lecture but then she finally felt the control panel of the door come in contact with her probing shoulder and she barely stifled a squeal of success. Instead, she busied herself with listening for any movement down the hall.

"Then what _is it_ time for, pray tell?" Her friend countered just as venomously. "We are about to die in the most gruesome gory way at the hands of some bastardly outer space maniacs and all you care to tell me is that "now isn't the time"?" Her voice was beginning to sound shrill and on any other day she would have tried to gather her wits because it was unbecoming to give in to emotion as much but what she said was true—they were about to die light years away from their home. Their deaths would mean nothing to those monsters and the earth girls didn't even want to venture into thinking of the countless ways their bodies could be defiled after their deaths.

Bulma sighed in defeat. "I know, I know, Chi—just relax a bit. I have a plan," she added as an afterthought, as if it was the most spirit-brightening thought in the entire galaxy. Her counterpart snorted in disbelief at her words.

"Oh, you have a _plan_?" Her volume at that point had reached a painful to the ears pitch. "Thank you, Bulma. Now I feel _so_ much better, knowing that my death is actually going according to plan!"

"Will you _stop_ making a nuisance of yourself and start helping me?" came the oddly muffled voice of her friend until she felt as if her presence had disappeared from the room altogether. It wasn't a very calming thought, mind you.

The brunette was just about to give her two cents in again when she felt familiar hands brushing over her arms going straight for the cuffs. She didn't even have time to inquire what she was doing before her wrists were freed. She found her onyx orbs gazing into Bulma's sapphire ones thanks to the faint glow of her friend's necklace.

"How did you do that?" ChiChi heard herself ask in an almost awed tone. Her companion answered with a one-shouldered shrug.

"Used the shrinking watch, became too small for the restraints and then went back to normal, of course," the girl said with a bright smile. She was referring to a watch she had invented thanks to which she could become the size of a paperclip or that of a whale if she just pressed a simple button. It was a generally useless in everyday situations thing and also tremendously silly but now ChiChi couldn't help but thank whatever deities there were for making Bulma immune to her taunts.

Sighing in defeat, the dark haired girl crossed her arms over her ample chest to regard her partner with her stern stare.

"Alright, let's hear that plan of yours." Bulma grinned even wider at those words.

"Well, first of all, we should think of a way to get out of here. I figure that the panel over there by the door won't be able to resist much of your finger-magic." ChiChi gave her a dubious look and then dived out of sight to search her numerous pockets for something. When the warm light of the ball shined on her face again, she had retracted a small flashlight. Bulma's jaw dropped in blatant shock. "You had a flashlight with you?" she almost shrieked.

"Of course," said ChiChi testily. "I _always_ have a flashlight with me. What self-respecting mechanic _doesn't_?" The girl gave her friend a deprecating look.

"Why didn't you tell me that earlier?" Bulma asked while following the other youth to the door of the room.

"Well, with our hands bound it wouldn't have been of much use to us, would it?" She had a point, of course. Her friend still gave a disbelieving half-laugh.

"Oh, sure, so why bother with getting some light if we're bound anyway? Seriously, ChiChi, _one of those days_…" She trailed off mid-sentence, shaking her head disdainfully and massaging lightly the bridge of her fine aristocratic nose, sensing a headache coming on. Her buddy gave her a pointed look for the fracture of a second before turning back to the digital pad on the wall, opening its lid and typing in something.

"One of those days _what_, Bulma?" snapped ChiChi while tapping the digits furiously, once more demonstrating her staggering multi-tasking ability—it's not very easy to think so hard and still be able to produce coherent sentences or make conversation. "I _dare_ you to finish that thought!"

"Don't _tempt_ me, ChiChi Ox!" threatened good-naturedly her friend. The other girl was about to look at her with a smug look over her shoulder when the lights suddenly went on and the door that they had been working on opening slid on its own accord.

They had been about to thank the gods for their mercy when they noticed the same repugnant man that had brought them there in the first place stand on the threshold, looking rather furious with their lack of chains. ChiChi had the grace to roll her eyes dramatically and groan in dejection.

"Oh, man… You _have_ to be kidding me!"

They were both hauled off their feet by the meek-looking alien, chainless and never getting to hearing or executing the rest of Bulma's genius escape plan.

* * *

When he first laid eyes on her on the dock, he had thought that maybe he was having one of those testy nightmares and had to submerge a quite overwhelming urge to pinch himself awake. Realization wasn't late on dawning on him, though, thankfully. He had turned around and away from her before any of his subordinates had the chance to spot a weakness in their 'beloved' mission leader—it was exactly what the vultures expected, what everyone around him expected.

He had thought the Universe vast enough for Freeza's or anyone else's grubby paws to never reach her fragile little neck. Well, obviously, fate had a way with mocking him because she was certainly there, on the space station, just as certainly as he was the last descendant of his royal family.

He groaned inwardly. How was he going to pull this off without feeling sorry for the rest of his wretched centuries-long days for one reason or another was truly beyond him at that point.

* * *

The lizard-like man in the outer space wheel-chair looked up from his goblet of wine at the sound of bickering males just outside the door to his room. He nodded to a servant close to him, who nodded in understanding in return and went to let the intruders in.

"—_is still against protocol, space trash!_" The vehement end of the flame-haired man's rant was the first thing that greeted the sipping creature upon the opening of the sliding door.

"_What is, Vegeta?_" He inquired with a friendly smile that sent shivers down his subordinate's spine that he hid perfectly well from prying eyes.

"_He breached protocol by stealing my ship off the dock during our meeting! This is an outrage!_" The Saiya-jin's stormy eyes were glaring daggers at his antagonist, whose amber orbs narrowed at the proclamation.

"_I do have to agree with Vegeta on that one, Zarbon—it is very irresponsible of you to go off on your own._" The way that he talked to them, like retarded little children, irritated the hell out of his minions, but they weren't insane enough to wear their hearts on their sleeves. "_Do you have anything to say for yourself, Zarbon?_"

"_I brought back the four-star, Lord Freeza!_" the greenish skinned man finally came out with, a smug grin spreading across his slimy mug. Much to Vegeta's dismay, their lord's reptilian face stretched into a look of amusement.

"_Did you now?_"

"_We were slightly held back by some… unforeseen circumstances—_"

"_What I hear is that some measly earthlings—women, nonetheless—outsmarted you and your crew, Zarbon. Is it true?_" It was a harmless-sounding question, really, but with Freeza a wrong answer to any harmless question can be the last thing that you ever have the chance to say.

"_Yes, sire,_" breathed Zarbon in reply, his head hanging low against his collarbone, not missing the chance to glare menacingly out of the corner of his eye at Vegeta, who was suddenly very quiet in the exchange. "_While I can't believe they can be of any worth to you, I reckoned you would want to deal with them yourself for their insolence_."

"_It sounds to me like you want me to clean up your mess for you, Zarbon. And why should I punish someone else for what I believe is _your _incompetence entirely?_" Freeza inquired with that same unnerving smile never leaving his purple lips. The underling tensed visibly at the words and, propelled by some incorporeal force or his own sudden insanity, that was when Vegeta spoke up.

"_It is a fact that Earth is far more advanced technology-wise than us, milord. They invest in broadening their knowledge rather than their physical qualities, thus few exceed the number of five ki._" His short explanation had the blood curdling crimson eyes shift to him. He didn't falter when his lord's eyes adopted a mischievous glint.

"_Is that so?_" purred Freeza into his goblet before nodding to a guard by the door that didn't even need to be told to know what to do. "_Do you believe these earthlings to have some potential, Vegeta?_"

The Saiya-jin leant on all his years of self-control not to show his double-take on his facial features. It was common knowledge that his superior appreciated his opinion but never about prisoners, never about politics.

Thankfully, the distraught prince didn't have a chance to answer as the door opened briskly and the guard that had exited mere seconds ago was back with two short females—one with hair as inky black as the cosmos and the other with tresses as blue as the oceans. The man shoved the pair inside, both of them fighting for balance after nearly toppling to the ground, glaring murder at their apprehender afterwards.

All male eyes were instantly drawn to the glowing orb on the blue haired one's neck, the crystal ball immediately ceasing its vibration, as if sensing the unnatural amount of attention it was receiving.

"_Ah, indeed, she has the four-star._" Freeza's chair hovered closer to the girl who glared defiantly at him once she was in front of her. "_Did you say they were earthlings?_" he asked Zarbon at once, whose only acknowledging of his confusion with the question was another blink of his eyes.

"_They are, milord, that's where we found them_."

Bulma was quite disgusted with the suggestive look in the repulsive little reptile's eyes but she prudently decided not to let her feelings show on her face.

"So you found it fit to give my men a hard time at executing their orders, did you now?" It was the first time since their arrival that ChiChi and Bulma heard speech that they could recognize. "Give me a reason why I shouldn't incinerate you on the spot, little one," he breathed out with a menacing glint in the crimson coloured irises but it seemed to lose its effect on both women who in turn only glared.

The young scientist fought the urge to empty the contents of her stomach at the inquiry and the tone he was using on her. She wasn't about to give him a reason to feel superior to her. She could bet an arm and a leg that she was times smarter than that hovering dolt. She just had to play her cards right to live long enough to make use of that brain of hers. She wasn't about to let ChiChi be the recipient of her heroic complexes.

"We'll talk after you get me back in those hilarious excuses for handcuffs of yours and I blow a hole in another one of your precious ships." At her bold declarations the odd little man gave a bark of laughter.

"_I like her, Zarbon!_" he exclaimed in a very perturbing way. "You're a very feisty one, aren't you?" he asked rhetorically when he turned back to Bulma. "Very well, pet. You can go talk with the research department. I'm sure that you'll find something to make yourself useful."

"ChiChi and I share the same fate," the girl spoke suddenly, drawing back his attention before the guard that had taken her and her friend there could seize the second, useless in Freeza's eyes, female. He didn't need both of them—he'd probably lose face with his minions. But at the sound of her voice, the reptilian lord turned around to size her with his revolting eyes. "Regardless of what that fate may be."

"Are you giving me conditions, Earth woman?" She didn't answer—only glared in response, steadfast in her decision to live or day alongside her friend. Camaraderie… Yet another feeling that Freeza couldn't understand the worth of. However, she seemed bent on her word so he decided to humor her. "If that is your only wish, princess, so be it—scurry off with your friends to find yourself a job around here. Oh, and, do watch your pretty little backs, wouldn't you? Most of my staff isn't exactly… the chivalrous type." His malignant smirk spoke volumes of the things that he left unsaid.

With an idle hiss, the door slid shut once again and the lord found himself in the company of two of his most trusted subordinates once again.

"_Go after them and inform them of the nature of your missions. See if they can possibly find a more accurate method for your searches—it's taking forever the way we're doing it._" The command was clear enough and the suddenly somber mood of their leader too to send both men on their way as well.

Alone and twirling the wine in the goblet, Lord Freeza began scheming how to make most use of his new guests and couldn't help wondering why it was that Vegeta seemed to have understood every word that he had spoken with the otherworldly women. His smirk reappeared when new and new plots began swimming to the surface of his mind's eye.

For it was a well-known fact that Freeza's intentions were always cruel, in everything he did.

* * *

Bulma walked after ChiChi, turning to look over her shoulder to see that the emerald haired henchman from the lizard's quarters was following them with a decisive expression on his face. Before he could see them after turning a corner though she ducked into an open room, waiting until he was out of sight to come out and look for the person she was itching to meet after climbing off that hellish transport of theirs.

She found him soon enough, plodding thoughtfully through the winded halls with a miffed twist of his pointy features. She hadn't followed him for more than a few minutes, not sure how to confront him before he stopped abruptly.

"Stop stalking me like something you aren't, brat—you're not doing a very good job at it." He was addressing her without even turning to look at her in the face.

She gritted her teeth so tightly together she thought they would break any moment. She walked stiffly until she was in front of him, glaring up at him as she was a good few inches lower than him. His hard onyx eyes studied her and a sneer took control of his face. Unaware of it, her façade mimicked his.

"You will look at me when you're talking to me, moron." His eyes flashed threateningly at her but she was either too thick to notice or too brave for her own good. His mouth curled in a patronizing smirk as he reclined slightly closer to her.

"And you will do well to know your place on this ship, little girl, because _this_ is the real world. We're not playing house anymore."

"_You_ will do well to remember next time that you play ingrate with me that I am no longer fourteen, Vegeta," she hissed back cryptically, her mouth twisting in a disgusted look before she stormed off and away from the most embarrassing little cluster of her past.

* * *

_Weak ending, I know. I thought I should just make it brief and powerful. Did I succeed? And I can only hope that the chapter was not too lame or boring for your liking. Anyway, thanks for bearing with me. Puberty is making a great number on me and I'm still very shaky with my loyalties to the fandom. Hopefully it will all turn out for the better? I hope that you'll be as supportive as you were last time and that it will suit your fancy to leave me a review. You know, to assure myself that you actually care if this gets finished?_


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